


The Wolf and The Whelp

by PoeticAnt44



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: After Alduin, Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanart, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Skyrim, Love, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Memory Loss, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sex, Shipwrecks, Some Companion Quests, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticAnt44/pseuds/PoeticAnt44
Summary: Farkas, Aela, and Skjor are on the hunt for the Silver Hand, needing to destroy their bases whenever they crop up throughout Skyrim.  On one of their hunts, they find several werewolves that were in various stages of death and pain.  Farkas, following orders to kill all werewolves that were feral, couldn't bring himself to do it when he comes across one that told him it wasn't feral and needed his help.  Instead of killing him, Farkas saves him, and more than just in freeing him from the Silver Hand.The torture the man received at the hands of the Silver Hand forced him to lose his memories as Farkas helps him regain what he lost and in the process finds a good friend and eventually a lover.Thank you Vokunkendov for helping sludge through my stories and being a second pair of eyes <3Fanart Chapter 7 and 14
Relationships: Aela the Huntress/Skjor, Farkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 109
Kudos: 68





	1. The Savior

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give Farkas a story. I didn't want to dive in and create smut for the two men, I wanted something real and meaningful between them (as I do all my characters). So, I hope I did a good job of doing that as I tried not to write so much as a female. The reason I chose Farkas with a male character is simply because I always envisioned him as such for some reason. I always wanted to write him with a male character.
> 
> Anyway, this is after Alduin and it will follow somewhat the Companion's Questlines, though I like to deviate and strive to not make it boring. 
> 
> I have a LONG list of stories in line to write, especially now that we are all stuck at home. Gotta keep those creative juices flowing :). 
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading and I hope you enjoy. The first post/chapter is always the most nerve-racking :). Please leave comments...I respond to every single one, and it doesn't have to be positive. If you don't like something, or I make a mistake somewhere, that is fine too. I'm a big girl :).

The thick falling snow made it difficult to see as the wind blew it around like tundra cotton in late Hearthfire. His Nord blood made him tolerant of the cold, but they had been watching the fort for what seemed like ages as goosebumps formed on his skin under the heavy armor. Farkas tried not to shiver as he pulled his fur-lined cloak tighter around him. He wanted to get moving, get his blood going, but they had to watch and time the sentries' movements. There were too many of them to rush in like angry mammoths.

Skjor had received a missive several days ago regarding the Silver Hand. A new lair had spawned in Eastmarch near Windhelm, and the Companions took it upon themselves to destroy it. They couldn't let the order get any more powerful, but they seemed to keep growing with a never-ending supply of followers— _They are getting too organized._ Farkas was troubled by the thought. 

The Silver Hand formed when they were kicked out of the Companions nearly a century ago and was first organized in retaliation. A few that had been a part of the Warrior's Guild had become too aggressive and violent when sent on missions, managing to kill innocent bystanders, bringing dishonor to the Companions. The Companions were mercenaries, but they had honor. They didn't go around killing unless there was no other choice.

Eventually, the group evolved from seekers of revenge to werebeast hunters, making it their mission to kill all those who change into beast form, pets of Hircine the Daedric Prince of the Hunt. That included the Circle of the Companions, all of whom were werewolves. The Silver Hand made it their mission, in particular, to kill those of the inner circle, which also meant Farkas and his twin brother, Vilkas.

"The three on the ramparts pass each other every 60 seconds. There is a small window to kill them without being noticed. I could pluck them off with my arrows, but if they fall to the ground, we will quickly be discovered and overrun," Aela informed the group, her keen eyes ever-watchful. Her long red hair was tucked under her hood, but some strands slipped out from the wind as she tucked it back in.

"I say do it; it's three less to worry about and will help if we do not have to climb the ramparts to get to them or having them fire down at us with their bows," Skjor suggested as he ran a gentle hand on her back. He never understood how a woman like Aela could love a man like him. He was strong and fearless, as she was, but he was much older, having fought in the Great War and lost an eye for his efforts— _Old enough to be her father._

Skjor had been a bitter man, losing his god, Talos, thanks to the spineless Imperials bending over and taking it in the ass from the Thalmor. He was angry because he fought alongside the Imperials only to be fucked over by them. Joining the Companions and falling in love with Aela had changed him for the better. At least in Whiterun, he could worship his god without fear of pain or death.

"Very well," she said simply, never one for long debates. Aela was confident she could kill them despite the winds gaining strength, a sign the storm was going to get worse. Her werebeast aided her with keen eyesight and hearing. Her hands were steady and secure as she readied her bow, nocked an arrow, pulled back the string and held it while she aimed and compensated for the wind. She let out a breath as her fingers let go letting the arrow fly, killing one of the sentries on the rampart. He did not fall to the ground and was killed while the other two were not looking.

It was only seconds, though, before the Silver Hand noticed one of their comrades had fallen. When they rushed to his aid, Aela let another arrow fly, killing the one who was inspecting the corpse, which put the third sentry on high alert. Her sensitive hearing noticed the man calling out to his friends below that there was a sniper as the three Companions watched them scramble into a semblance of organization.

"Ready?" Skjor asked.

"I'm always ready," Farkas replied while Aela remained silent, readying her sword.

"Always the brawn, but never the brains," Skjor retorted. "Just don't do anything stupid, Farkas."

The man ignored Skjor and his jab at his intelligence. They always treated him as if he didn't have a brain— _or feelings_. Farkas got tired of it, but he never said anything. He knew keeping quiet only fueled Aela and Skjor's efforts at making fun of him, but he just sucked it up and let it go. He knew the truth of things. Farkas was kind and sensitive, which made him look weak in the eyes of Aela and Skjor, both of whom were more battle-hardened. They always asked him why he wasn't more like his brother Vilkas.

Farkas pulled out his greatsword as the three ran into the fort. The Silver Hand were ready for them, or so they thought. He led the pack of three, swinging his massive sword gracefully as he decapitated one Silver Hand and killed another as he swung around once more. A third lunged at him with a shield for protection, and Farkas quickly blocked the man, sword against sword, shoving him back. The Silver Hand could not withstand the brute force that was Farkas. He wore the man down to the ground as the Companion repeatedly slammed his sword in the shield, finally shattering it. 

"I yield," the Silver Hand screeched out at Farkas' assault.

Farkas would have yielded to anyone else, but he knew well enough that if he gave an inch, they would stab him in the back. The Silver Hand had no honor, being no better than bandits. He took his sword and rammed it into the fallen man's chest, slicing cleanly through the leather armor, and moved on to find another target. 

Skjor was in combat with a male Silver Hand who was a bit more formidable than Skjor anticipated. He sliced, blocked, and cut with his sword worrying about this cult getting more organized. He wasn't a young man anymore and wanted to change into his beast, but he needed to think clearly and not go on a killing rampage unless he had no other recourse. So he pushed back the bestial thoughts of the hunt and blood.

The Silver Hand, sword raised, was about to cut down Skjor, who had slipped in the snow when surprise suddenly hit the man's face, and blood pooled out of his mouth. He fell face forward into Skjor, both of whom toppled to the ground. Skjor, disgusted, shoved the dead man off of him with an arrow protruding out of his skull, glancing in appreciation at Aela, who had a smirk on her war-painted face.

Farkas, adrenaline pumping, was ready for more, but there were none left as he circled the perimeter of the fort. He watched Skjor pull his long graying hair back into a ponytail that had fallen out during the battle, and Aela was plucking arrows out of dead bodies to use again.

"Ready to continue, Shield-Brother?" Aela asked, looking at Farkas' strangely calm eyes despite the battle. She knew her own silver ones were most likely glowing in beastly hunger, as they always did when she fought. She loved being a werewolf and running wild, but there were times that called for more clarity and organized thought— _this is one of those times._

"Dammit!" Skjor grunted, just noticing his forearm was bleeding, adding red to the already stained snow as it dripped down his hand and fingers.

One could never outwardly tell if Aela was caring or sympathetic, calmly taking Skjor's arm and looking at it closely. Dropping his hand, she dug in her pack for some linen to wrap his wound. The Silver Hand wasn't called that for nothing, using silver weapons that damaged those like the Companions, who were sensitive to the metal and prevented proper healing, sometimes causing death. 

"This is what happens when you don't wear bracers or gauntlets, love." Her voice sounded indifferent, but Skjor knew otherwise.

"I hate not feeling the grip of my sword," he explained for possibly the hundredth time.

Aela firmly bound his arm in the thick cloth to help staunch the bleeding and hoped it would coagulate. "Your hands would feel better on my sensitive skin, were it not covered in calluses."

"You don't complain when I…"

Farkas could feel himself blushing at the exchange, the heat warming his cold face. "Stop! I don't want to hear it. Keep it in the bedroom, you two. You done holdin' his hand, Shield-Sister?"

Aela smirked at the larger man, pleased that he could dish it out as well when it served him. "Yep, he will live."

Skjor grunted in disapproval. "Whatever. Let's go."

When they entered the fort, the first room was devoid of Silver Hand. The only thing decorating the stone room was the remains of tortured werewolves and werewolf heads on spikes. The stench of death was exacerbated by their sensitive noses. Choking back the bile, Farkas could sense the anger from his Shield-Siblings. He understood because he could feel the pull to slaughter, his beast growling in his head. 

Farkas was the first to push forward after opening the gate to the rest of the fort. The three Companions pushed their way through, slaughtering with swords and arrows as they went. Eventually, they made their way up to what looked to be a prison. The large room was wall-to-wall in small cells, and the stench of dead and dying werewolves was overwhelming.

Aela took out the first two Silver Hand closest to them in stealth to maintain their anonymity. There were two more Silver Hand at the end of the large room as Farkas rushed at them. They were ill-equipped to handle the immense Nord who towered over them and surpassed them in strength. He was fighting two of them, but Skjor was not about to be outdone and took the man out, leaving the woman to Farkas. He hated it when he was forced to kill women, but she lost her humanity a long time ago.

All three Shield-Siblings took a look around the room and saw several survivors, werewolves who had been tortured. Farkas didn't know if they were captured as werewolves or forced into their beast form, then tortured. He felt his eyes moisten in empathy for the creatures— _If we had only gotten here sooner. How can they call us animals? They are the ones who slaughter and torture in pleasure. They are the monsters_. 

"There is nothing we can do for them. None of these beasts have any humanity left. We will be doing them a favor by putting them out of their misery," Aela ordered as she took her bow and fired arrows at a couple of the beasts.

Skjor had found keys to the cells on a dead Silver Hand and started unlocking the cells to kill the creatures, ending their misery, their humanity was long gone.

Farkas walked along the row of cells, unable to bring himself to do what he must. He understood you put down a rabid dog, not hug it, but they were human once and innocent. It was not easy for someone like him, who held more empathy for others than he probably should in this violent world.

He knelt at one of the cells looking at a werewolf lying curled up on the ground, listening to its ragged breathing. Its black fur matted in blood. Some of the other monsters lunged at Aela or Skjor, unable to control themselves, feral, but this one just laid there doing nothing— _Maybe it's in too much pain to do much of anything else_. 

There was an internal tug of being pulled in two different directions. Part of Farkas knew he needed to put the creature out of his misery; clearly, it was suffering. But the other part of him wanted to help it. 

Farkas sniffed the cell— _Male, young, his beast new. He has not had enough time in this world._

Pulling out his sword, he slipped it through the bars to kill him. He was struggling internally. It was not as easy for him as it was for Aela and Skjor. They always did what they believed to be right without hesitation, sometimes not stopping to ask if they should. Farkas always thought things through first, sometimes for too long, and knew it could cost him one day, but he just wasn't a reactionary. If he had doubts, he wanted to think about it.

As the tip of his sword laid close to the heart of the beast, ready to stab it, the creature looked at Farkas right in his eyes. He did nothing to stop Farkas, but he had that look of understanding, knowing what was about to come. The eyes gave Farkas pause, for there was intelligence in them. He knew all too well that being in beast form forced them to react like animals instinctively, but there was thought that remained.

He withdrew his sword from the cell, stood up, and walked over to Skjor, who had killed another werewolf. "Wait! Maybe we shouldn't kill them. Could there be a chance they can be saved?"

Aela scoffed at Farkas. "Always the one who wants to bring home the lost puppies and baby birds who fall out of nests. Look, Ice Brain, there is no saving them. They are no longer human."

 _There's nothing wrong with a bit of compassion_ —" But...but what if we're wrong? I'm tellin' you," he tried to explain, pointing over at the beast he almost killed. "...I think that one there is...OK. He's injured, but I wonder if he has the ability to change back." 

Skjor patted Farkas' back as a friend, but there was an underlying condescension to it. "Look, we get it. We know you are kind and want to save everyone, but this time you are going to have to listen to us...trust us that this is the best thing for these poor creatures."

Farkas stood up straighter, already a head taller than the older man, which made him even taller, wanting to stand his ground. "Again, I'm tellin' you; this one is different. Maybe you are right about the rest, but that one over there looked right at me in the eyes. There was nothin' wild about him. He was just gonna let me kill him without fightin' back."

When Aela and Skjor weren't budging on their decision, he pressed forward. "Give me the keys, let me just check on him, and if he attacks, I will kill him. But...but I want to be sure...his eyes are givin' me doubts." He hated the looks the two were giving him— _pity and superiority at the same time_. They made him feel stupid and small. He loved his Shield-Siblings, but they had no respect for him, treating his kindness as some sort of weakness.

Decision made, Farkas yanked the keys from Skjor's hand and rushed to the other cell and unlocked it before they could do anything. His sword ready in case the creature lunged at him, not taking any chances. 

Aela and Skjor shrugged and left him to his own devices, knowing he could take care of himself despite their belief that he was an idiot.

"Fine, whatever. We will press forward and kill the rest while you sit here and babysit your puppy," Aela said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation

Farkas nodded in relief that they weren't going to fight him on it, not taking his eyes off of the beast. "Watch each other's backs. I don't want to come in there and find you two dead." If Farkas felt the two Companions couldn't handle it, he would have followed them— _Shield-Siblings over everyone else_. 

He looked down at the creature still curled up in a ball, watching Farkas intently, not moving. The cell was open, and if the beast were going to kill him, he would have done so already. He tried not to think about the werewolves the other two had already killed, wondering if he could have saved them after all.

"Hey there. I'm a friend and here to help you, but I can't do that while you're in beast form. I need you to try and change back. Can you do that?"

The beast's golden eyes looked at Farkas warily, not registering if he understood or not and made no effort to move, still holding tightly to whatever wound was beneath the arms.

"I'm Farkas," he said, not sure if the creature could understand him. He removed his gauntlet and ran a delicate hand along the fur of the beast's leg as if one might pet a...well, a puppy. He cringed with Aela's words about him taking in puppies. Perhaps that was true, but this creature was no puppy, and it could just as quickly kill him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. If you're worried about my friends, they won't hurt you either. They were just doin' what they felt was right," he rambled, unsure if he was reaching the creature. At least it was still calm, watching.

"You hungry? I don't have anything raw, but I got some dried meat. You want some?" Farkas dug in his pack in search of his dried meat supply. It had fallen to the bottom, and he had to pull out several things before he reached it. 

Opening the cloth that covered the food, he watched the beast start to wiggle his nose as he sniffed the air, and his stomach started rumbling loudly.

He chucked at the wolf. "Oh, you're definitely hungry. I'm sure those assholes didn't feed you at all."

Farkas held out the food to the beast, waiting to see if he would take it, but the creature didn't move despite the hunger. Or, perhaps it was the hunger that drove the beast to finally shed its beastly form and return once more to a human.

He watched the creature's black fur recede into flesh, clawed hands and feet look more human as the snout gave way to a Nord face with medium-length dark hair and beard. The face was filthy, and it was hard to tell what he looked like under all that dirt, blood, and probably worse things. The man was naked before him, still curled up in a ball. Farkas handed the man the food while the man tentatively reached for it and started slowly nibbling.

Farkas eyed the Nord up and down, sizing him up. "I bet one of those dickheads got some armor you can wear until we can get you somethin' better...hang tight."

It took a few minutes to pry the armor off of a corpse that looked to be the same size as the man and brought it over to him. He was done eating, and his dark brown eyes watched Farkas warily with an underlying fear, still uncertain he could trust him.

Someone suddenly burst into the prison section, laughing at someone else, frightening the man. He was terrified he was going to be tortured again as the naked man scrambled and reached for Farkas, getting as close to the big Nord as he could.

Farkas, arms out and eyes in shock, looked down at the man, suddenly holding him tightly, terrified. Then he looked up to see Aela and Skjor returning no worse for wear looking down at Farkas. A smile played on Aela's bleeding lip. "See, puppies…"

"Aww, someone is in love…" Skjor chortled.

Farkas put his hand on the man's bare back to reassure him. "Knock it off...both of you. He needs our help. So is it done then?"

Skjor nodded. "They are all dead here, but it will never be enough until we wipe them out." He looked down at the naked and filthy man. "Can he walk?"

"We haven't gotten that far yet," Farkas shrugged. He looked down at the young Nord man, his odor assaulting his nostrils, but it wasn't the man's fault he was stuck in a tiny cell sitting in his own filth.

"Hey, these are my friends. They won't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you, OK? But we need to get dressed and get you out of here. Would you like to get out of his horrible place?"

The man looked up at Farkas' silver eyes, the first time he felt relatively safe in who knows how long. He didn't want to be separated from the man but tried to stand without letting go of him. 

Once he was upright, Farkas did his best to dress the man's wounds and get him dressed in the leather armor, then walked him out of the fort.

"Now what? Do we just bring home? Set him free like some little bird after you taught it how to fly?" Aela asked.

Farkas shrugged, looking at the man who was nearly as tall as he was once he was upright, though not as broad. "You can go home now if you want. Do you know where you live?"

The man shook his head, wavy hair swaying around his neck and chin from the movement. When the big man tried to walk away, he clung tighter to his arm.

"You don't know where you live or you don't have a home? Which is it?"

He still did not speak, and Farkas was beginning to wonder if he could talk at all. Perhaps he is still too afraid— _torture can do that. "_ I guess you can come back with us, and I'm sure Kodalk can figure out what to do with you." 

"By Ysmir! Damned puppies!" Aela complained as she got on her horse.

Farkas ignored her as he helped the man get on his horse, and he climbed up in front of him. The man clung tightly to his waist from behind as they headed back to Jorrvaskr in Whiterun.


	2. What's In A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas saves a man who turns out to not remember who he is after being tortured by the Silver Hand. The Companions bring the survivor back to Whiterun and Jorrvaskr as he triggers and has nightmares resembling lost memories. The man finds it hard to separate from Farkas, his savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you are enjoying! Would love your feedback, it's getting tedious around here itching to get out, as I'm sure everyone is feeling the suffocation lol. Going on almost four weeks where I am.
> 
> Note: So, I use a LOT of mods lol, but I use DX's Better Men of Skyrim, which is an NPC overhaul of several male characters. My description of Farkas' appearance is from this mod since it's one I primarily use.

The Companions would have kept going all the way back to Whiterun, but they had to make camp as the injured man needed to rest. He had been falling asleep on Farkas' back and almost fell off the horse before Farkas caught him on time.

Skjor made the fire while Aela went off hunting for their dinner. Because they were not expecting to delay their return, the three didn't bring enough food with them, especially with an extra mouth to feed. 

Farkas set up two tents and laid out all the bedrolls while the man sat by the fire to keep warm, his eyes ever watchful of the big Companion as he set up camp. Not warily, but worried he would run off somewhere, afraid to be alone with the other two Companions whom he didn't trust.

The big Nord's head was shaved on the sides of his head; the long dark brown hair usually slicked back, had fallen to the side. The man was only a couple of inches taller than he was, but he was broad with muscle he noted when the heavy metal armor was removed. His silvery eyes were less visible than before as the black warpaint was wiped off his face with wet snow. With the paint gone, the man was quite handsome with strong features.

When he was done, Farkas sat next to the survivor. "Let me take a look at your wounds. I'm sure you need new dressings on them. I have a healing potion you can take too, though not sure how well it will work if your injuries that were due to silver. Won't hurt takin' it anyway." 

The man took the potion from Farkas' hand and drank it down. There was some relief, though there were other wounds that would take time to heal. At least the stomach pain went away, which was internal. He was more hungry than anything. Despite the Nord's bulky size, he was gentle as he removed the linen from his wounds to make sure he wasn't bleeding any longer.

"OK, not too bad. At least the bleeding stopped. I hate to say you are lucky because you're one unlucky man after what happened to you, but at least you're alive, and we found you." 

When Farkas was done adding clean linen to areas that needed it, he gently patted the man on the back and gave him a small smile meant to provide reassurance. Not knowing what else to do, Farkas ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and watched Skjor getting a spit ready for the meal that was to come.

He wanted to ask the slender man some questions about what happened and who he was, but the Companion decided to wait after the meal— _Everyone feels better after a meal_ , he mused.

Periodically Farkas would eye the man to make sure he was doing OK, but he was just sitting there quietly, cross-legged by the fire, looking at his hands. 

Aela soon returned with several rabbits, enough for all of them to eat. All three of the Companions set to work on the rabbits, stripping pelts and gutting them, and soon, they were on the spit, roasting. The smell of cooking rabbit made all four salivate with hunger.

While they were waiting, Aela was full of curious questions for their new friend. She was braiding her long red hair to keep out of her face while she watched the young man. "So, what's your story, friend? How did you come to be in that horrible place? How did you become a werewolf?"

The injured man looked at her, knowing she was talking to him, but he didn't want to say anything to her. He wasn't sure he liked her or could trust her. Besides, he didn't even know who he was or how he got to be in that place. He remembered the torture all too well, but anything before that was a blank.

"Can puppy not speak?" she asked with a smirk when he remained silent. The dig was mainly addressed at Farkas, but it came off callous towards a man who had been tortured.

"Can't you be nice for once, Aela. Not everyone is as crass as you."

"At least I have brains," she retorted, the smirk never leaving her face.

"Whatever, just leave him alone. The guy has been through enough."

All four were eating the roasted rabbit in silence when they were done. Farkas was intrigued by the man's eating habits of all things. He certainly didn't eat like he had a beast inside of him, or he hadn't eaten in a while. Where Farkas was ripping the rabbit to shreds, sucking on bone, wiping grease off his mouth with the back of his hand, the man ate more delicately. Despite his hunger, he gently pulled away meat from bone only using three fingers, putting each morsel slowly in his mouth. He dabbed his mouth instead of wiped with the back of his hand— _He eats like some noble._

When the man was done eating, he stood up, pulled some linen off a wound that stopped bleeding, and headed to the creek to clean up. He didn't want to get into the frigid waters, but he couldn't stand his stink any longer. He wiped grease, blood, and dirt off of his body and face as well as he could, and washed away the smell from his armpits. It wasn't perfect, but at least he didn't reek as much.

"Well, you're a handsome one, aren't you?" Aela announced when the man returned noting all the dirt and blood washed off his face. She gave Skjor a sideways glance knowing it would irritate him. She wasn't trying to get him angry, but to tease him.

Skjor hated when she jabbed at his ego. He was already insecure about the age difference as it was. He knew she was just teasing him, but he still didn't like it. "Knock it off!" he griped, knowing that was what she wanted, but reacted anyway, breaching his self-control.

She pressed a finger to her lips in a seductive manner and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I know I've been bad. Bad Aela. What should we do with bad Aela?" she asked, in a pouty voice, not caring that the survivor and Farkas could hear everything. 

"Shor's beard, you two! Can you give it a rest for five minutes?"

Aela blew Farkas a kiss. "Jealous, Shield-Brother?" 

"As if...just...just take it to the tent." Skjor and Aela did just that. "Close it behind you! No one wants to look at your bear asses."

Farkas groaned and turned beet red with the sounds coming out of the tent— _Why can't they wait until we get back for Ysmir's sake!_ He looked over at the man and could see that he too was bright red in the face— _At least I'm not alone in my embarrassment. Perhaps it would be better if I were._

"Urgh, sorry about that," Farkas finally exclaimed between moans. "As you may, or may not, be aware, the beast blood can make us...well, more…" he didn't want to finish what he was saying, hoping the man understood what he was saying.

He turned to face the injured man who was nodding that he indeed understood what Farkas was referring to. Aela wasn't wrong; he cleaned up nice once all that dirt and blood was off his face. There were injuries there, but one could see how handsome he was. "So, you gotta name?"

The man looked into the silver eyes before him and shook his head. "No...I...I don't. I don't remember." His voice was hoarse and cracked from a lack of use— _Except when I was screaming_.

"You can speak then. Well, that's good 'cause I hate speakin' to walls. So, you can't remember your name, huh? The Silver Hand must have really done a number on you. They are the monsters, not us."

"Wh...why didn't you kill me?" he asked, voice soft and quiet. "I saw what your friends did...to the others."

The question caught Farkas off-guard. "Yeah, most were a lost cause. You...I don't know; you looked like you weren't crazed. You had intelligence in your beast eyes like you knew what was goin' on. I...I couldn't do it. I wanted to see if you could be brought back."

"Thanks for that." The man fidgeted a bit with his hands, not sure what to say. He couldn't even remember the last time he had a conversation, if he ever did, not remembering anything.

"I can give you a name if you want. It would only be temporary until you get your name back, but I gotta call you somethin', ya know."

"OK, I would like that. Just...don't call me 'puppy,'" he mumbled.

Farkas looked at the man strangely then burst out laughing. His laugh was deep and throaty. "Did you just make a joke?" he asked the man. The survivor gave him a small but shy smile, which pronounced high cheekbones. Farkas was impressed that this man, who had been horribly tortured and did not know who he was, could find it within himself to find humor.

"How about 'Volk?' It means 'wolf' in some language I don't remember. You have to be a strong wolf to handle what the Silver Hand dished out to ya."

The man mulled over the name in his head. "I like that... it's strong."

"Great! Volk it is then...until you remember, that is. I'm Farkas, by the way. Aela, Skjor, and I are part of the Companions, along with my brother, who's also my twin. We are an ancient Warrior's Guild. Mercenaries now, but we were once great and were led by Ysgramir himself. It's an honor to be part of this family."

They were quiet then and forced to listen to Aela and Skjor moaning and groaning once more. "Wish they'd hurry it up so we can get some sleep."

Volk smiled at big Nord, but soon wondered where he was going to sleep. He had no tent or bedroll. _It's better than that tiny cell,_ he thought as he yawned and stretched. He was tired and curled up by the fire— _At least it's warm, and I'm not sleeping in my own filth._

"What do you think you're doin'? You don't have to sleep out here. There's enough room in my tent. I also got an extra blanket. We'll just share the bedroll by laying on top of it and the blanket...sound good?"

Volk was pleasantly surprised and nodded, grabbing the hand that was offered him to help him stand, and followed Farkas to his tent. The two men were large, and it was a tight fit all around, but they made due. It was also warm next to the large man. The tent was so much more comfortable than the dank cell, and Volk quickly fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time since he could remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The ship thrashing, saltwater in mouth, bile in throat. Water reaching knees. Ship leaning, sinking. Climbing higher and higher, reaching deck. Washed away by massive waves, struggling to swim. Blonde man drowning can't save him...NO!. Weeping for loss and swimming. Land not far, so tired. Muscles weakening, slipping under waves. Make it to shore, waves shoving weak body into rock, blackness. Wakes to cold, wetness and loss, lover dead._

Volk woke up gasping for breath, then stifled a sob. It wasn't just the fear of the scattered fragments of struggling to survive in the ocean, but the loss of someone. _Someone, I know? Was he close to me? Who was he?_ Volk was surprised by the dream as he struggled with the emotions, wondering if it was more of a memory and why he didn't have his usual nightmares of torture.

He felt a warm hand on his upright, bare back, but he didn't flinch as the man next to him sat up to check on him.

"Hey, you OK? That was some nightmare," Farkas asked.

Volk just nodded, holding back the wetness that formed in his eyes, not sure why he was so upset. "Yeah, just...a bad dream."

"Well, it's no wonder after everything you've been through."

Farkas pulled the man back down on the bedroll as he rolled over to face him, placing a folded arm under his head. "You know, when my brother and I were just whelps, we were taken away— _I think_ —stolen. Necromancers tortured us, did things to us. I can't remember all the details which I'm grateful for. I'm sure my brother remembers more, but I don't want to know really, so I don't ask. Jergen, our father, saved us and brought us to the Companions. They couldn't remember Companions younger than us. 

I used to have nightmares like yours when I was little, as did Vilkas, my brother, but we held on to each other until we felt OK. I still get them now and then. It's hard for the mind to forget, even if you want to. Sorry, not tryin' to make this about me. I just wanted you to know I get it, you know, if...you wanna talk."

Volk was entranced with Farkas' silver eyes that seemed to glow despite the darkness in the tent as he told his story. It was nice to know he wasn't alone, that someone understood what he was going through. "Thanks," was all he could mutter.

Volk's eyes grew heavy watching the Nord who had already fallen asleep, listening to his rhythmic breathing as the residual pain from the nightmare eased and finally fell back asleep himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late afternoon when the four reached Whiterun Hold. Volk had watched the town grow in size the closer they got, the massive building in the distance seemed almost to pierce the sky. The tundra was relatively barren except for scattered wildflowers and surrounded by snow-covered mountains. 

"What is that big building?" Volk asked.

"That is Dragonsreach. The Jarl of Whiterun lives there. Rumor has it, it was built to hold a dragon if you can believe it. Well, rumor no longer. I guess you don't know what happened about a year ago then, but the Dragonborn actually captured a dragon in that very building. I will tell you the story one day if you don't get your memories back. I have no doubt you've heard the tales."

"Really," he replied in awe. "I would like that."

The Companions returned their rented horses to the stables and walked the rest of the way to Jorrvaskr. As they moved their way through town, Volk stood close enough to Farkas so he could touch him and looked around the lovely town. He was glad that the Companion didn't seem to mind him being so close, at least outwardly. 

Whiterrun was clean and well-kept, children were playing in the streets, people shopping in the market, and everyone seemed content. He couldn't help but wonder if he had ever been to Whiterun before as he tried to grasp at any memory buried in his mind, but nothing seemed familiar.

Volk suddenly fell to his knees beneath the Eldergleam tree grasping his head after seeing Jorrvaskr, which looked like an overturned ship. It sent flashes of memories similar to his nightmare in his mind— _waves, storm, drowning lover. "_ Urgh!" he yelled out, trying to hold in a sob. Volk could feel hands trying to lift him up and heard words, but he couldn't understand what was being said with the images flashing in his mind like ghosts. It left him in turmoil, and he couldn't understand it. None of the flashes made any sense. He could feel strong arms grasping around his waist and almost carried to the building that caused his distress.

Farkas watched Volk suddenly groan, grabbing his head as he fell on his knees. He didn't know what happened or what was wrong, but the man looked to be in distress. "Volk, what's happening? What's wrong?" he asked, but the Nord wouldn't answer, or couldn't.

The Companion looked around and could see everyone staring at Volk, some with concern, some with fright, others with indifference. He tried to lift him up, and while Farkas was strong, the man was limp, and it made him heavy. Aela, putting aside her typical crass attitude, helped Farkas lift up the man. Once he was on his feet, Farkas helped him walk inside to Jorrvaskr.

Volk could feel himself being seated in a chair and a mug of water thrust in his face, but he ignored it as he tried to calm his breathing. As his vision started to clear, he could see Farkas gasping his face and looking at him in the eyes with worry. He was moving his lips, but he couldn't hear the words. Volk knew he could hear, for the ringing in his ears was loud, but it was his mind that was clouded. The more he breathed, the calmer he felt as his mind started to settle.

"Hey...hey! You OK? Can you hear me?" Farkas asked. He could sense the rest of the Companions surrounding him from behind, but all were quiet as he tried to calm the man.

Volk finally nodded his head as his breathing and heart rate settled down. "I...I think so," he panted.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

The man nodded but didn't explain as he looked around the dining hall at all the faces staring back at him, suddenly embarrassed by what happened, feeling his face flush with heat. Volk started to draw into himself, not wanting to be looked at in his weakness. 

Farkas sensed the man's discomfort and yelled back at the people behind them to mind their business without looking back. Hearing the Companions disperse, he focused his attention back to Volk. "What happened out there? Can you tell me?"

"I...I am unsure. It was like my...dream. Just flashes of something. I saw your...building...looks like a ship. I...I think I was in a shipwreck or something. I keep seeing a man, blonde...he dies...drowns...it pains me to see it. I don't know!" he suddenly yelled.

"It's OK...OK. Don't worry. Looks like you have maybe some memories comin' back. It must have been bad. I'm sorry. Maybe you should get some rest, and when you wake, we can eat, and then we can talk to Kodlak, our Harbinger here. He's wise, and he might be able to help."

Volk nodded at the man and stood on wobbly legs. Farkas gently grabbed an arm to help steady him and didn't let go until he felt he was able to walk without falling. 

He was led down some stairs to an area that had a long hallway and private quarters. Volk found himself in a simple room with a bed and strangely a bar. "I got the best room in the house," he heard Farkas joke. "I get to keep watch over all the alcohol."

Volk tried to reward him with a smile, but he didn't feel up to it. 

"This is my bed. Get some rest, and when you wake up, you can use the bath here, and there will be some dinner for you. I will stay down here in case you need me, OK?"

The man grabbed the Companions hand as he started to walk away. "D...don't leave. Please? I don't think I'm usually this...weak. I can feel I am not, but I'm... I'm not myself."

"Uhm, OK...I got stuff to do, but I can stay until you sleep."

"Thank you…" the man sighed in appreciation, suddenly feeling stupid and shy.

As Volk laid down on the bed, he curled up his legs to give Farkas room, and Farkas sat down, crossed his legs, and leaned his back against the wall. No matter what negative thoughts may have crossed the Companion's mind, Volk was appreciative he didn't say anything about it. Farkas just stayed with him, no questions asked.

Farkas woke up, surprised he had fallen asleep leaning against the wall. His neck was stiff from the uncomfortable position as he rubbed it loose, trying to get his bearings. He looked down and could see Volk was still sleeping, so he stood up as quietly as he could and made his way out of his bedroom to go soak in the tub.

When he shut his bedroom door behind him, he came face to face with Aela.

"How's your little puppy? Get him to sleep, OK?"

Farkas was tired of her attitude. He knew she was joking most of the time, but it came off harshly. It was one thing to pick on him, it was another that she was picking on Volk, who was already vulnerable. 

"Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time," he said, walking away towards the bath. He did not see the shock on Aela's face, who was not used to Farkas talking to her like that. He felt terrible for what he said. It wasn't like him to use cruel words to others, even if they did deserve it, but he felt personal responsibility for Volk and wanted to protect the man.

After his bath, feeling refreshed, he went to grab some dinner for him and Volk and brought it back downstairs to the living quarters. Farkas sat at the long dining table and started diving into his steak and roasted potatoes with carrots. One of the benefits of Jorrvaskr was the excellent cooking.

While Farkas was eating, Volk stirred awake with a long and languid stretch as he yawned loudly. He was comfortable, enjoying Farkas' bed, and didn't want to get up, but the pulling in his stomach indicated he needed to eat. He was not surprised Farkas wasn't there and went out to look for him and saw him sitting at the table in the large hall.

Farkas gave the man a toothy smile when he saw him and waved him over. The man's hair was a tangled mess, and his eyes held the last vestiges of sleep. "There he is! Sit and eat something. I was just about to get you up. After eating and bathing, you are going to feel like a new man! Promise!"

Volk couldn't help but smile at the big Nord. He had to admit the man had a way of making him feel comfortable and at home. "Thanks," he muttered shyly and dove into his meal.

"We will wait until tomorrow to talk to Kodlak and see what to do with ya. You're safe here, Volk," Farkas explained, watching the man eat and smile, pleased he was able to put the distressed man at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volk = Wolf in Russian
> 
> But, did you know:  
> Farkas = Wolf in Hungarian  
> Vilkas = Wolf in Lithuanian
> 
> Next: A new Companion joins the ranks


	3. The New Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volk gets to know the Companions and trains with Vilkas in sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat, realizing that his body remembers how to fight even if his mind does not. Farkas introduces Volk to the Bannered Mare for some fun and drinks realizing the two have more than just good chemistry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting! I always appreciate it!
> 
> I hope everyone is healthy and safe.

"Let me take a look at you, lad," said the old man before him. Volk surprised even himself that he allowed the man to take his face in his hands and move his head around as if he could read the future in each freckle.

Volk tried not to stare at the man as he was being scrutinized and analyzed. Kodlak was undoubtedly an older man with white hair, a braid running on each side of his head with a full beard, and one blind eye. His face covered in wrinkles like a map with too many roads. If there were a book on what Nord men looked like, there would be a picture of Kodlak in it.

The Harbinger let go of the man's face and stared for a while before he said anything. "Yes, I see the beast in you, lad, though it happened relatively recently. Your beast is...young for lack of a better description as are you. You may be shy and uncertain right now, but you have a strength about you. It's most likely why you survived the Silver Hand."

"Are you like a...seer or something?" Volk asked with a soft tentativeness.

"Oh, nothing so interesting as that. My beast just reads yours. As you get used to yours, you will learn and get to know it, thus controlling it. But I have a feeling you have things more under control than you believe...a lot like Farkas here, who has exceptional control over his beast. He struggled when he turned, so it was a surprise he could master it so easily. There is also a nobility about you, the way you behave and carry yourself. I wouldn't be surprised if you come from a noble family."

Volk thought on the Harbinger's words wondering if he indeed was of noble birth— _I might have family out there looking for me_. "So, what happens now?" 

"What happens now is you can stay with us for as long as you need to. Your memories will return eventually and more often as triggers hit you. If you recover fully, you are welcome to stay or move on. It is up to you, son."

"I hope we keep you," Farkas said. "We could always use good people around here."

Volk was appreciative of the two Nords who helped him and welcomed him, no questions asked. "Thank you both for helping me and giving me a place to stay."

"Do you know if you can fight or not, son?" Kodlak asked.

"I don't know," Volk shrugged. "I remember trying to fight back with the Silver Hand, but they had the numbers, and I had no weapons. They had me bound when I changed. I think...they were forcing my beast to come out."

"Bastards!" Farkas spat. "They probably do that so they can justify what they do. It's harder to do on a human."

"Yes, we have had problems with the Silver Hand as long as I can remember. Farkas, show this young man where he can sleep and then find your brother. I want Vilkas to see what the lad can do."

"You got it, Harbinger. Come on, Volk. Let's get you a bed of your own and find Vilkas."

Kodlak watched the two larger men walk off, Volk standing closer than normal to Farkas as if afraid to leave his side. He pitied Volk and hoped he could eventually find his memories, especially since he was quickly getting attached to Farkas. It was no wonder really since it was Farkas who found him and saved him. 

The Harbinger wished the other Companions gave Farkas more credit. He had a keen sense and a kind heart, something that was rare these days. It was because of those traits that Volk was alive. Vilkas was the only other Companion that knew how his brother truly was being so close to each other. Farkas didn't help things, though, by not standing up for himself. He let others walk all over him because his kind heart tells him it's not worth it. Vilkas used to stand up for his brother, but it usually only served to fuel things, so he stopped doing it. Regardless, Farkas always seemed to be happy.

Farkas saw Aela walk by, and he stopped her. "Hey, have you seen Vilkas around?"

"He's in the yard training the whelps, Ice Brain. Where else would he be?"

"I just thought he might have gone on a mission since I haven't seen him today," he said, not in a defensive way, used to Aela talking to him as she does.

Volk eyed the woman, noticing, not the first time, how cruel she was to Farkas, and it irritated him. He was a kind man and didn't deserve that sort of treatment, but he didn't understand the dynamics of the Companions enough to say anything to her.

"Why is she so mean to you, Farkas?" Volk finally asked when Aela was out of earshot.

"Skjor and Aela like to tease, but they are good people. They challenge us to be our best. Skjor likes to say I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother has his smarts," Farkas shrugged, brushing it off as he always did.

"That isn't teasing nor challenging someone... it's cruel. You are strong and smart. I don't understand why they can't see that," Volk said with a sudden vigor he hadn't shown before. "I barely know you, and even I can see that. Maybe they aren't as smart as they think they are."

Farkas looked at the lankier man, wondering what got into him suddenly, but he appreciated the man's words. He had to admit, it felt good someone saw more to him and that he didn't see kindness as a weakness or as stupidity. "Thanks, Volk. I know I should probably say somethin', but I don't wanna start nothin'. Sometimes it's easier just to let things go."

When they reached the courtyard, Volk watched several younger Companions receiving lessons from Skjor and someone who looked exactly like Farkas except for the hair. His hair wasn't shaved on the sides and was shoulder length. It was strange to watch the man train who looked just like Farkas, and he was grateful they at least had different hairstyles so he could tell them apart.

As he got close to the training yard, Volk could see that Vilkas had a harder face than his brother. Farkas had a look of ease and always seemed to have a smile on his face, whereas Vilkas had a look of tension and seriousness.

"Hey brother, I got someone new here. Kodlak thought you might see what he's got in regards to fighting."

Vilkas eyed the new blood with an intensity that started to make Volk uncomfortable and found himself looking away, his eyes seeking out the comfort that was Farkas. "Yes, I can do that. He looks like he's got some strength to him." Then he addressed Volk, "I heard you had some memory loss. Do you remember using any weapons at all?" 

"No...I don't know," Volk shrugged.

"Well, don't worry. If you are well-trained in anything, your muscles will remember. We just have to coax them. Sounds good?"

Volk nodded, pleased that Vilkas came off kinder than his face showed.

"Before we get into weapons, let's see what you got with your fists." Vilkas removed his heavy armor and lifted his fists at face level, keeping his arms loose while he planted his legs, one foot slightly in front of the other. "Don't worry; I can take it."

Volk replicated the man's stance as the two moved in circles, not yet making any move. He noticed in the back of his mind that the training yard had gone quiet, assuming everyone was watching the amnesiac to see what he could do. He blocked out the silence and tried to focus on Farkas' twin, feeling strangely at ease.

Vilkas suddenly lunged at the man with a right hook as Volk instinctively dodged and lept back as he then saw the left quickly coming at him, feeling the breeze of his fist blow by his face— _too close!_

Raising his fists a little higher to protect his face, Vilkas came at him one more time, this time going for the gut as Volk left it unprotected, but the man quickly blocked the hand out of the way by swinging his arm down. 

_OK, it's time to go on the offensive_ —Volk lightly moved his feet around, loosening up his stance, feeling his body remember something his mind could not. Vilkas and Volk circled each other, looking for openings and weaknesses. 

Vilkas came at Volk once more, always the aggressor, but his punch left an opening, and he gave the Companion a quick jab in the ribs. When he heard the man grunt, he dropped his fists in worry that he hurt him, but Vilkas jumped on the momentary weakness and got Volk in the gut.

Volk let out an 'oof' when he had the wind knocked out of him and quickly resumed his stance, not letting it drop, pushing back the pain. In the back of his mind, he was surprised this wasn't trigging his recent torture— _Perhaps because this time, I am able to fight back_. 

"Never let your guard down unless you are certain the fight is over. Don't ever coddle your enemy," Vilkas lectured. "If you get hit in the gut, remember to clench the muscles to ease the blow."

_OK, no coddling_ —Volk resumed his stance and never took his eyes off of Vilkas' face. Something in the back of his mind instinctively knew that he could anticipate actions and reactions watching the eyes. When Vilkas threw a jab towards Volk's face, the man ducked down and threw a punch into the Companion's gut. He quickly bounced away so Vilkas couldn't counter and found himself swinging a leg towards the man's head. 

Vilkas dodged out of the way just in time. If he got hit with the leg, it could have knocked him out. "Stop!" he yelled out. "Well done, whelp. It's clear you've had physical combat training. We never learned to kick here like that, but clearly, you have. You have the upper hand in this fight. Good job!"

Farkas came up to Volk, handing him a mug of water, then slapped him hard on the back as he sputtered out the water he sipped on. "That was amazing! I've never seen anyone get the better of my brother in a fight, not even me. I'm stronger, but he's leaner and faster. I'm impressed! Now I'm excited to see what else you can do!"

Volk gave Farkas a toothy grin, realizing he was having fun. 

"Alright, Volk. Did you rest? Good. Clearly, you've had training, and I won't be surprised if you know how to use a sword. You are fairly lean, so I'm assuming if you do use a sword, it is one-handed. Pick your weapon of choice; feel it, know it's heft. Then we can practice on technique."

Volk found a sword to his liking, swinging it around a few times to get a feel for it. He also grabbed a shield knowing one-handed sword users generally used them, but they both felt uncomfortable in his hands. It was too awkward, which was telling him that he probably didn't use them. 

He put down the sword and shield and grabbed a two-handed greatsword like the kind the twins used. Holding the grip with two hands felt comfortable to him as he swung it around with ease. The day was getting hot, so Volk removed the tunic Farkas lent him, leaving him bare-chested with a dusting of dark chest hair. 

Farkas ogled the man, not sure if it was because of his well-built physique or because he was a two-handed sword user— _perhaps both_. He had seen him with his shirt off, but it had been dark. In the bright light of Mundus, his muscles, while lean, were pronounced. His lithe body indicated he couldn't handle the heft of a greatsword, but there he was swinging to and fro with ease. 

"Well, whelp...looks like you're a two-handed man after all. Good! This should be fun!" Vilkas grinned, happy to use what was most comfortable for him. "But since you don't have the proper armor and now no shield, we will work on stances and technique...how to swing it, but I have a feeling you already know."

Farkas sat back on one of the benches munching on an apple and watched his brother and Volk work on the greatsword. Vilkas and Farkas were more brutish with the great sword, while Volk had more grace with fluid-like movements despite the weight of the sword as he swung left and right in elegant swirls, feet always perfectly landing as he turned. 

He couldn't help but find the man attractive, muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat, his growing hair sticking to his sweaty and flushed face. It was the happiest he had seen the man with that stupid grin plastered on his face, clearly enjoying himself. _We need to get him some proper armor so he can spar in a real setting_.

When he was finished training a couple of hours later, he was dripping sweat, and his muscles burned, but in a good way. Volk was tired but energized at the same time. He came and sat down next to Farkas, who watched the whole time and grabbed the cloth Farkas handed him to wipe down the sweat off of his face.

"Thanks, that felt good."

"You look good...I mean, looked...out there," Farkas stammered, trying not to blush at the slip of his words. He looked over the man and could see some blood seeping through some of his bandages from the exercise. "We need to get new bandages on you."

Volk looked down at his body and shrugged. "Let's eat first. I'm famished!"

After lunch and getting cleaned up, Farkas took Volk to see Eorlund Gray-Mane for some Skyforge steel armor and weapons. Eorlund had several sets already made as Volk tried them on and found a set that fit well enough along with a new greatsword. Apparently, he knew how to use a bow as well, so Volk grabbed a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Walking through town, Farkas dragged him into Belathor's General Goods and grabbed him some proper clothes, so he didn't have to wear Farkas' larger ones. "Thanks for all of this, Farkas. If I can earn some money with the Companions, I will pay you back."

"Don't worry about it. The Companions are family. We take care of each other," Farkas shrugged.

"So are we Shield-Brothers? What happens now?"

"No quiet yet, whelp," Farkas teased. "You will be sent on a few jobs, then if you're successful, will be sent on a mission that will be your trial. If you succeed, we welcome you to the Companions. But let's not rush it. You still need to recover a bit."

"I'm looking forward to it," Volk said. He didn't remember where he came from or who he was. It was frustrating to keep trying to pull strings in his mind to form some sort of memory that wasn't there. The Companions will at least give him a purpose and a home— _a place I can belong_. He felt so alone as a prisoner of the Silver Hand. The torture was horrible, but he wasn't there as long as the others and knew it could have been much worse for him, or it would have been had Farkas not found him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dusk when they walked to the Bannered Mare, the sky several hues of purples, pinks, and oranges. The temperatures were cooling down as nighttime approached, but it was still warm enough Volk didn't need to bundle up. 

He had been with the Companions for a week now and had not been given any jobs yet. They wanted to make sure he was not only physically healed, but because of his torture and amnesia, they worried about his mental status. He felt ready and was getting bored, eager to prove himself, especially to Farkas.

It didn't help that he couldn't sleep with the other whelps and ended up sleeping on the floor of Farkas' room. His nightmares were keeping the younger ones up anyway, but Farkas could sleep through anything, apparently, or he seemed to— _the Companion never complained about it._

"You're going to love it here. It's fun and always crowded, and the bard is decent too. At least he can carry a tune, but rumor has it he tries to sleep with every single lady he can get his hands on," Farkas explained chuckling. "Rumor has it he got kicked out of the Bards College for sleepin' with the headmistress, who was currently married at the time."

The tavern and inn was as lively as Farkas claimed. It was warm and inviting with a roaring fire in the center, people mingling around it drinking, laughing, dancing to the music from the bard. 

Farkas led them to the last table available in a far corner, probably not taken because it was too tucked away from the crowd. As they sat, a lovely Redguard woman with long black frizzy hair took their order. "What'll it be?" she asked with an air of indifference. 

"Two Honningbrew Meads and two bowls of whatever stew you got cookin' and fresh bread," Farkas ordered.

The woman left without saying anything to grab their order, and Farkas brought his attention back to Volk. "Wait until you try this mead. I'm sure you've had it before, but probably don't remember. Maybe the taste will bring it all back...good stuff, it is."

The evening wore on after they enjoyed their meal and probably drank more mead than they were used to. They tried to get to know one another further, but it was mainly one-sided since Volk had nothing to share about himself. He enjoyed getting to know the big Nord, though he already liked the man being his savior and al.

Perhaps it was the alcohol or the excessive noise, but they found themselves moving closer and closer to talk to each other, shoulder to shoulder as they laughed and drank. 

Volk watched Farkas as he told tales of some of his adventures from his youth with his brother, his silver eyes glowing in the single candle on their table, making them look animalistic. He spent more time listening rather than talking, so he used that time to analyze Farkas' features as he spoke. His features were attractive with the chiseled chin and jawline, his neck thick that was common among men who were broad with muscle, a dusting of a dark beard spread along his jaw and upper lip. 

Volk was getting tipsy, elbow on the table, jaw resting on the hand as he enjoyed Farkas' tales. The man was quite talkative, but he was OK with that as it made him feel less awkward that he had no stories of his own, not wanting to talk about his time with the Silver Hand. The evening was perfect, full of laughter, stories, good drink, and an attractive man.

He didn't know much about himself, not knowing if he had a girlfriend, wife...boyfriend? He frequently wondered if anyone out there missed him. Volk had a feeling he was interested in men as he was so drawn to Farkas, paying little attention to the women, though there were quite a few who were pretty enough.

Farkas loved to talk and talk he did, but he felt bad for taking over all the conversations. He knew Volk didn't have stories to tell, so Farkas filled the void. He would rather have asked Volk all sorts of questions about him. He wanted to get to know the Nord better, but it was impossible without his memory. 

Volk was very attractive, and he found himself more and more drawn to him as the week passed. His blue eyes were so piercing, he could get lost in them, and he liked the way his long bangs, usually tucked behind ears, fell in his face, covering an eye. He didn't stop to think as he moved the hair away from the face and tucked it back where it belonged, watching Volk suddenly get shy and smile. 

Farkas had been with both men and women, he loved them both, but he was especially drawn to Volk. It wasn't just his attractiveness, but how he was as a person. He may not remember much, but one cannot fake kindness and intelligence, which Volk had plenty of. They found themself no longer talking, and both nervously sipped on their bottles of mead, looking around at the crowd.

"Sorry, I...I...that was kind of personal," Farkas finally muttered. He didn't know enough of the man to tell if Volk would even accept Farkas, being a man and all.

"No, uhm...it's OK. I…" Volk found himself at a loss for words. What he really wanted to say was, " _I liked it. I wish you would kiss me right now, and I don't care who sees. I'm attracted to you and want you."_ But Volk didn't express his thoughts, choosing to stay silent, unsure how Farkas would react. The hair thing could have been an indication of interest, but he wasn't sure, not wanting to make presumptions.

At the end of the night, they both hobbled back to Jorrvaskr, practically carrying themselves to Farkas' room, most likely making a racket while the others slept. They stayed out later and drank more than they intended, but they were having too much fun to leave.

Farkas fell in his bed and rolled onto his side as he watched Volk remove his tunic and boots, then sit down cross-legged on his bedroll in front of Farkas.

"Thanks for letting me sleep here. I hope I don't keep you up every night."

"Nah, you're good. Your nightmares are dyin' down a bit, and you're not as loud, not that I minded anyway."

"Good…" was all Volk could say, feeling awkward for some reason.

Farkas curled up an arm under his head, looking at Volk. "I...I wish they didn't hurt you...those bastards. No one deserves that...especially...you."

Volk smiled shyly at the big man. "Thanks…I…" He struggled to find his words. He wanted to kiss him right then and didn't want just to plop his lips on Farkas' mouth. "Uhm, does it sound weird that...that I want to kiss you right now?"

Volk regretted his question when he saw the surprise hit Farkas' face— _perhaps I read him wrong_. His stomach fluttered, and he could feel his face burn in embarrassment, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. The surprise, though, soon gave way to a smile. 

"I would like that," he answered, surprising Volk in turn.

The man on the floor didn't smile back but sighed in relief and pleasure as he leaned into Farkas' face and hovered there for a moment, looking into the Companion's silver eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on his face, still smelling of mead. Slowly he pressed his lips to Farkas— _so soft_ —and closed his eyes, sighing into the man's mouth. The kiss was tentative at best, but tender, his hands still in his lap. Though awkward, it felt natural to Volk, as if he had done it before. He wondered if he had always been interested in men.

Volk reluctantly pulled away, but Farkas placed a hand behind the man's head and pulled him back in for another kiss. It was less uncertain as mouths started exploring lips and tongues. He didn't know how Farkas was feeling, but Volk could feel the heat build-up inside as it traveled between his legs, feeling the pressure in his pants as he hardened. He was nervous enough as it was and didn't want to continue beyond the kiss, so he pulled away once more, resting his forehead on Farkas' head. "That was...nice," he whispered.

"It was…" was all Farkas could get out, very much enjoying the kiss they just shared. "Goodnight, Volk." He removed his hand from the back of Volk's head as he trailed delicate fingers down his face.

"Night, Farkas." Volk curled up on his bedroll and soon fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Conversations with Kodlak are stressful and new jobs are trying.


	4. Mettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kodlak has a talk with Farkas and Volk, much to their dismay, about their budding relationship. Volk has to prove himself to the Companions, having to kill for the first time in his very short memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting! I hope everyone is safe and healthy.

Farkas woke up with a start realizing it was getting late and quickly scrambled out of bed, his head pounding from the drinking the night before. If they didn't get upstairs, all the breakfast would be gone. The Companions were known to devour food as if they had never eaten before. 

Volk could hear Farkas stir awake as he pulled the blanket over his head. It wasn't that he wanted to continue sleeping, though he did have a pounding headache, but he was embarrassed. Last night's kiss still lingered in his mind happily, but now that he was more lucid, he worried that Farkas only kissed him because they had been drinking. Doubts seeped into his brain resulting in a strange sort of regret and wanting to hide from the man. So he buried himself under the covers, trying not to groan, and pretended he was still asleep.

He could hear Farkas shuffling around, putting on pants and boots as he started to stomp around the room. It suddenly went quiet, and Volk wondered if Farkas had finally left the room, but he didn't hear the door open.

Volk could feel a burst of cold air on his skin as Farkas ripped the blanket from his body. "I knew you were up. You can't hide that heartbeat. Come on! We're going to miss breakfast!"

The man on the floor groaned, wanting to bury himself alive forever, trying to control the heat rushing to his face. 

Farkas could see the man blushing and knew right then it was about last night and their kiss. He grinned and reached out a hand to lift Volk off the floor. Volk paused and reluctantly reached out as Farkas effortlessly lifted him, pulling the embarrassed man into an embrace. 

"There is nothin' to be embarrassed about, and nothin' has changed," he said matter-of-factly as he pressed his lips to Volk's who melted into him. Volk pulled away and held Farkas tightly, resting his head on his shoulder for a moment, hiding his broad smile.

"Alright, we need to go now if you don't want to starve until lunchtime," Farkas ordered.

Volk quickly threw on his tunic and boots as they rushed out and headed upstairs to eat before all the food was gone.

"You're up late," Kodlak stated as if the two young men didn't know. He watched them rush out of Farkas' room, arms casually draped around each other's shoulders.

"I know...long night. 'Mornin' Kodlak, we're goin'…"

"Not so fast, Farkas. I would like to have a word with you, please. Volk, if you would be so kind as to gather some breakfast for Farkas and save it for him. I need to speak to him privately."

Volk nodded, then looked back at Farkas. "I'll be up in a minute, Volk." Volk turned and almost ran to ensure there was enough food for the both of them.

"Have a seat, boy," Kodlak said, hand out indicating at the chair before him. As Farkas sat down, Kodlak sipped his tea then took a bite of eggs before him.

"I'm kinda hungry, Harbinger."

"It won't be but a few minutes. We need to talk about our new friend."

"Volk? OK. About what?"

Kodlak was always slow and deliberate in everything he did as he sipped his hot tea. Usually, Farkas was just as patient, but he was hungry and wanted to be with Volk. The Harbinger put his mug slowly down on the table and eyed Farkas.

"It's none of my business who has relations with whom, or if Companions are sleeping with each other. I don't care. But Volk is different, son. While he is one of us for now, I want you to think seriously about what you're getting into with him."

Farkas squirmed uncomfortably in the chair, not wanting to talk about this new, whatever it was, thing with Volk. Not even he was sure where it was going. "What do you mean? Nothin' is goin' on."

"Yes, not yet, but it will. I see how you two look at each other and didn't you both come out of your room holding each other? As I said, it's none of my business, but…"

"Then why are we talkin' about it?" Farkas asked, suddenly feeling defensive, arms folded.

"Son, think about it. I mean, really think about it. Who is Volk? You don't know, and neither does he. He doesn't even know his own name. What do you think is going to happen when he recovers his memories?"

"I will be there for him and help him is what will happen."

"No, you do not understand the scope of the matter. You're a good and smart man, Farkas, but this is something you haven't ever had to deal with. We do not know who he is. He could be some wanted criminal or murderer, though I sense he is most likely a noble. Being a noble, he probably has a wife and children at home. The point is, you do not know. You get involved with him, and it turns out he has a family, how is that going to make you feel? How will it make Volk feel?"

Farkas breathed out, feeling deflated and upset that he talked to his Harbinger. He didn't want to think about these things, but he knew the older man was right. He couldn't ignore the fact that Volk has another life, one perhaps that will never involve Farkas. "Crap…"

"Indeed. With luck, Volk is unattached, and you two will be together if that is what you both want. But I would wait until he recovers his memories."

Farkas nodded and stood up moodily. "Are we done here, then?"

"We are. I'm sorry to have to do this to you, son, but you need to be aware. Before you go, Volk has a couple of assignments now that he's ready." Kodlak slid two pieces of folded parchment across the table, and Farkas picked them up. "Give those to him, and he can start immediately. And when you go up, please send the boy down. I need to talk to him as well about this."

Volk looked up from his breakfast and smiled, waving Farkas over when he saw him come up the stairs. He soon stopped smiling with the man's surly face, wondering what lousy news Kodlak laid on him. When Farkas sat down next to him, he slid the plate full of food to Farkas.

Farkas didn't look at him as he slid two pieces of paper towards Volk. "Thanks for breakfast," he mumbled irritably. "Those are for you, two assignments if you feel you're ready. When you're done eating, Kodlak wants to see you."

"What's going on, Farkas?"

"I...I don't want to talk about it right now. Talk to Kodlak first; then, we can talk about things."

Volk was impatient to know with a feeling that it pertained to the two men, but just nodded and resumed eating breakfast. 

Breakfast was finished as Volk watched Farkas lumber off to the training yard to warm up for the day. His whole demeanor had changed since he talked to Kodlak, and he was already missing the usual smile and upbeat personality Farkas was known for.

Chugging down the rest of his tea, he reluctantly headed back down to the living quarters to talk to Kodlak. 

Aela was sitting across from Kodlak talking about something as Volk waited off in the distance until they finished. She saw Volk waiting and excused herself, winking at Volk as she walked by. "Puppy…" she said by way of a greeting.

Kodlak waved him over. "Sit down, boy, please." 

"You...you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, thank you for coming…"

"I presume this is about Farkas and me?"

Kodlak looked at the young man appreciating his intuitiveness. "Indeed. As I told Farkas, what you two do is none of my concern. That's private between you and Farkas. I just expressed to him my concerns about getting involved with you…"

"We aren't involved...we…"

"I know you haven't been here long enough for anything serious, but I noticed a growing interest between you two...enough to give me concern. We don't know who you are, Volk. We have welcomed you here and have given you a home…"

"Yes, I can't tell you how much I appreciate that, and I would never…"

Kodlak raised a hand to silence the young man. "Please let me finish, son."

"Sorry…" he mumbled as he fidgeted with his hands.

"We have welcomed you, and all of us have quickly grown to like you, but as I said, we do not know you, and neither do you know yourself. I worry that you and Farkas will...get attached, and when you get your memories returned, find that you have a wife and kids, for example."

Volk sighed heavily and slumped in the chair, understanding why Farkas was suddenly so moody. The older man was right. He didn't know who he was or who could possibly be waiting for him wherever he came from.

"I'm sorry. I do not want to make you and Farkas worried and stop things between you two. I just want you to be aware of the choices you are making and their potential consequences."

"No, I...I understand. I appreciate your insight. Thank you, Harbinger."

"I hope this doesn't put a damper on your growing friendship with Farkas."

"No, I could never stop liking the big guy."

"Glad to hear it. Good luck on your new assignments. I look forward to hearing about your success. Bring honor to the Companions, lad."

"I will."

Volk returned to Farkas' room to pack up and get ready to go do his jobs. He sat on Farkas' bed, reading the orders. One was to clear out a large bandit camp that settled on a much-needed iron mine. He needed to kill them so the tunnel could be worked again. The second one was a cave of vampires that had been discovered, and he needed to clear them out. Vampires were not to be tolerated and deemed a threat to all those living in Whiterun, especially with two missing girls.

He opened his map to find their locations and realized the assignments would take him at least three to four days to complete. Folding up his map, he put it in his bag then put on his new Companions armor. It felt heavy on him, not remembering ever wearing armor, but he knew he would get used to it. Volk strapped his greatsword to his back, dagger in his boot, and grabbed his bow and quiver. He would need the distance weapons for Vampires, not willing to fight them up close.

While Volk was excited to prove himself finally, he knew he would miss Farkas. Grabbing his pack, he headed out to say goodbye to the big man and leave.

Volk watched Farkas practice with his greatsword, appreciating his skill and body as he moved and sweated. He watched Farkas put down his sword and wipe the sweat from his face so the two could talk.

Farkas inclined his head, indicating Volk should follow him. The two walked over to the forge, where it was presently empty of people.

"I take it, Kodlak talked to you about...us?" Farkas asked.

Volk just nodded, looking down at his feet.

Farkas rubbed his neck with the cloth as if wiping sweat, but it looked more out of nervousness. "I guess we should stop things before they...progress, huh?" 

"I...I don't know. It seems reasonable, but…"

"Yeah…"

"I like you, Farkas...more than friends. If this is what we have to do, then I guess we have to do it. But I don't want to."

"I don't want to either, but maybe we should wait until you know...you get your memories back or somethin'."

Volk nodded vigorously, swallowing hard, brow furrowed. "Sure...right…makes sense."

"Do...do you think you should, uhm...sleep in your own bed now? I hate leavin' you to your nightmares, but...you know, you bein' so close…" Farkas left the rest unsaid, knowing that Volk understood what he was getting at.

"Yeah, I can do that." Volk kicked around a little pebble on the ground, unable to look at Farkas, his shyness kicking in. "Well, I guess I gotta go. I have a long few days ahead of me."

Farkas thought to Oblivion with it and grabbed the armored man into an embrace. There was no kissing, but he wanted Volk to know that he would miss him and that his feelings for him haven't changed. 

Volk held him back, who was going to miss the man, even if it was only for a few days. It would be quiet without Farkas.

"Be safe out there and good luck," Farkas said as he pulled away. Words that he would miss him were left unsaid, hoping the man would know, understand. They weren't lovers per se, but they had become closer than best friends— _Is there a word for something in between the two?_ he wondered as he watched Volk walk away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dusk by the time Volk reached Halted Stream Mine. He was a distance away, confident any bandits lurking or keeping an eye out for danger couldn't see him. The dapple gray horse he rented snorted happily and went about chomping on grass as soon as they stopped. Volk tied him up to a tree and hoped nothing would come out and kill it while he was gone. He wasn't sure he could afford to replace it.

Volk wasn't used to sneaking. The Companions showed him a little bit, but if he was ever trained in it, he long forgot. The heavy armor didn't help to keep the noise down as it clanked metal against metal with his movements. Ducking behind a large boulder, he looked out to count the number of bandits visible. "Three...four...five," he calculated in a whisper, hoping that was all. Any more would prove to be too challenging on his own.

Shooting the sentry sitting down on a makeshift tower was probably a mistake as the bandits noticed the death of their comrade and scrambled into action, prepared for an attack— _Live and learn. I should have just gone in there, sword drawn, catching them off-guard._

Volk pulled out his greatsword and charged into the camp, screaming in an attempt to throw them off. One clean cut of his sword, cut straight into the gut of a male bandit, left his innards hanging out as he looked down in shock, strangely trying to put intestines back in before falling to his knees and dying. 

He could see a woman coming at him from his peripheral vision, warpaint all over her face as she screamed with sword and shield. He blocked her slash with his sword, the metal reverberating through his hands as he struggled to hold on to his sword. She was stronger than she looked and came at him again, shield raised. Instead of hitting with his sword, Volk did a spin kick and knocked her on her back. As she laid there dazed, he shoved his weapon in her heart. 

Three down—the two remaining bandits started to circle Volk in different directions, assuming the man couldn't bring them both down. Volk did not move right or left but kept both within his line of sight, knowing one or the other would attack from his right or left. As soon as the first one struck, he would have to be ready for the second. 

The bandit on his right slowly came at him as Volk prepared for the attack. He knew the one on the left would soon attack, but what he didn't prepare for was to be kicked in the back first. He fell into the bandit that was headed towards him, knocking them both to the ground. The second bandit tried to stab Volk in the back, but he rolled off of the other man beneath him just in time as his own comrade stabbed him.

Volk quickly scrambled up and lunged at the remaining man who was in a temporary shock that Volk was not dead beneath his sword. Volk gracefully swung his sword as the blade sliced cleaning through the man's neck, his head falling almost in slow motion then rolled to the ground.

He had to take a moment to calm his beating heart while his stomach roiled at all the death. Volk may have killed before or fought with a sword, but this was the first time in his current memory he had ever killed anyone. He did what must be done, and the bandits didn't deserve any remorse, but it sickened him, especially the decapitation. 

When he felt like he could hold the contents of his stomach in, Volk headed into the mine, where he was sure more bandits lingered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Volk knelt on the ground and inspected the gore outside of the cave. There were bodies, perhaps an animal in there who had been torn apart to shreds, blood coagulating in the soil. The corpses seemed to be only a few hours old, but he couldn't be sure. 

The missive indicated a couple of young women disappeared from outside of Whiterun on their farms, who weren't likely to stray. Someone witnessed a man who had been watching them and said his eyes glowed. Volk didn't know the truth of it, but he would find out soon enough.

Picking up a bloodied amulet off the ground, he pocketed it so he could verify with the parents later. Right now, his job was to kill whatever was inside.

He decided to remove his armor to keep the noise down and hoped he wouldn't need it. He wasn't fighting simple bandits where the armor could easily protect him, and his armor wasn't enchanted to protect against such things. These creatures could change him into a vampire— _or could they? Can I become a werewolf and a vampire? Would that make me a werepire? Vamwolf? Werevamp?_ He shuddered at the thought, making a mental note to ask Kodlak later if he lived through this. It was better to be silent and take them out quietly before they had a chance to react. 

Wearing his tunic and leather pants with boots, he quietly entered the dark cave, bow drawn. The chamber below him was large and full of coffins, dead bodies, and bones, some of which were actually walking around, not sure why he would be surprised by such things.

Volk's luck held out when he noticed a lone vampire sitting on some steps below him, oblivious to his presence. He nocked an arrow in his bow, pulled back the string and aimed at her head. As soon as he let out a breath, he let the arrow fly as it made its mark, killing her instantly. 

Quickly drawing his sword, he easily cut down the walking skeletons then worked his way into the next chamber. As he quietly came around to the next room, another vampire was sitting, quietly eating on some human bones. Volk had to swallow back the bile. It was one thing to see the gore, quite another to see someone eating it. 

Apparently, he wasn't silent enough, the vampire sensing his presence. The creature stood and cast a spell throwing Volk against the stone walls of the cave. It knocked his weapon out of his hand and the breath out of his lungs. Too fast for him to perceive the movement, the vampire was suddenly on top of Volk trying to devour him as he struggled to get the creature off. One hand was keeping the monster off of him while he felt around for his sword with the other. 

Volk needed both of his hands as he tried to keep the creature off of him, but he proved to be too strong. Volk could hear his beast inside his head to let it out as it snipped and snarled. Unable to do much else other than keeping the vampire at bay, he let his beast take over. 

The vampire was in shock at this new revelation, and the wolf took advantage of his reaction by tearing it in half with his claws, instantly killing the bloodsucker. As it lay dead, the beast noticed a girl whimpering in a cage as she shoved her body as far into the corner as possible, weeping.

The beast could hear her heart beating faster and her blood moving through her body, making him salivate with hunger. He paced the cage to find a way in, but it was locked as he throttled the bars, trying to get it loose. Hunger was now driving the creature as it fell to its knees, grabbing its head with long claws, roaring. 

Volk sensed the desire to kill the girl and used all his will to force the creature out of him before it found a way to taste her flesh and blood. He laid there curled up in a ball, shuddering from the pain of changing back, then struggled to his knees looking at the girl.

"I'm so sorry. You're OK...you're safe." He noted he was naked, his clothes torn to shreds.

After digging around the room, he found the key to let the girl out, but she only cowered in the corner. 

"I'm sorry, I swear, I will not hurt you. I hired to find you and bring you home. I'm...sorry I'm naked. I have armor outside of the cave and will get dressed then. Please come with me so I can take you to your parents."

It took a bit of coaxing, but the girl finally came out as he helped her out of the cave, put her on his horse, and took her home. 

Her parents were forever grateful their daughter was alive as the other parents wept at their loss. Then Volk returned home back to Jorrvaskr, looking forward to seeing Farkas even if it was just as friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Volk and Farkas are sent on a mission, Volk's test, and it's not just the ruins that are challenging.


	5. Honor and Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volk is sent on a mission for his trial to become an official member of the Companions, even better, he gets to do it with Farkas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting! I hope you like my two intrepid wolves!
> 
> I hope everyone is healthy and safe!

Vilkas had been watching his twin brother for four days now, wondering why he had been so moody lately. Farkas almost always had a smile planted on his face, but it had been non-existent as of late. _I'm the moody one around here. What has gotten into Farkas?_ He sat next to his twin at the table during dinner and clapped him on the back.

"What's been goin' on with you, brother? You are acting more like me each day. I'm not sure broody works for you. That's clearly my gig," Vilkas tried to joke with his brother. When he got no response, he tried a different tactic. "Usually, you come to me when things are botherin' you. Talk to me."

Farkas poked at his food in front of him. He had only known Volk for just over a week, but they had quickly become close friends, then interest grew to more than friends only to find that they couldn't do anything about it left him a bit surly. He didn't want to talk about it because he felt stupid. Stupid that he was so irritable over something that really wasn't even a thing in the first place. It wasn't like they were lovers that ended things. He felt like he was overreacting.

Vilkas waited for Farkas' response, but all he did was shrug. "Come on, brother, you know you can talk to me. You know if you don't talk, I'm gonna just have to drag you out on the yard and beat it out of you," Vilkas teased again, though it was common for them to spar when stress seemed to be a bit overwhelming.

Farkas glanced at his brother on the sly with a smirk on his face thinking about taking him up on the sparring session.

"There it is! I knew that smile was hiding in there somewhere."

Since he remained quiet, Vilkas tried to guess what was bothering his twin and had a reasonably good idea already. "It wouldn't happen to be about that handsome new amnesiac whelp running about the place, would it? The one you rescued? I watched you two eye each other a few times when you thought no one was watchin'."

Farkas looked stunned for a moment but shut it down quickly. He should have known his brother would figure it out. They knew everything about each other, even when they thought they were keeping secrets. 

He blew out a frustrated sigh and decided to talk to Vilkas finally. "Yeah, it is. I...I just feel stupid about it is why I haven't talked to you. It's not like we are a thing, but I feel I'm...overreacting that we can't do anything about it. We like each other, but it all has to be put on hold until, ya know...he gets his memories back, if at all."

 _There's the truth of it_ , thought Vilkas. "I don't understand why you would feel so stupid as to not come to me. We are family, even more than the Companions. You and me, always. I always got your back, brother.

As to your dilemma, I know it must be hard to want something you can't have. I think most of us have been there. It's not stupid to feel that way. I don't have any wise answers for you, other than it will pass with time. It's cliqued, I know...but time is everything. With time he will get his memories back, and then you can resume what you want with each other."

"But...what if he has a family? Kids? What if…"

"What if, then? These are details to put aside until the time comes. No point in worryin' about something that is out of your control. Just be the friend he needs. You two are excellent friends already, so just keep doing that. When he gets his memories back, he will need you. It will be hard on him, undoubtedly...a big adjustment," Vilkas suggested.

Farkas nodded in agreement with his brother. Vilkas was right. He had been pining away at something that was out of his control. He was worried about all the 'what if's.' It was pointless worry. "You're right, brother. I need to be there for him when he needs me, not that I wouldn't have before. I should have come to you. Talkin' helped."

Vilkas clapped his brother once more on the back. "Glad to hear it!"

Farkas smirked at his brother. "Still want to beat each other after this?"

"Definitely!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Volk came stumbling into Jorrvaskr exhausted, not having slept much since he left. It wasn't that he was traveling all through the night, though he did the last half because he wasn't sleeping anyway. It was the nightmares keeping him up, which were exacerbated by the fighting and gore he experienced—things his empty mind wasn't used to. He may have had many battles over the years, but he doesn't remember even one. 

Despite his exhaustion, he wanted to find Farkas and let him know he was back and OK, not that he didn't have a strong desire to see the man. Most of his memories were new, and all his recent ones were about Farkas. They were happy memories he frequently thought about while he was gone. 

He grabbed an apple, taking a big, crunchy bite out of it, and decided he could eat a meal later. It was early enough in the day and figured Farkas would be outside in the courtyard, either honing his skill or training another whelp. As he headed out the doors, sure enough, Farkas was sparring with his brother. The site of blood would have shocked him had he not seen the smile plastered on the Companions' faces.

Farkas looked over and saw Volk approaching and was flooded with relief that the man was OK and no worse for wear. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he was about to pass out, but other than that, he looked well.

He smiled at Volk and paid dearly for his distraction as Vilkas planted a fist into Farkas' jaw, staggering the broad man backward, shaking his head and seeing stars. 

"You know better than to get distracted, brother!" Vilkas scolded.

Farkas rubbed his jaw, looking at Volk sheepishly, seeing the shock on the other man's face. 

Volk ran to Farkas while scowling at Vilkas. "Why did you do that?!" To his surprise, both Vilkas and Farkas started laughing. 

"Don't worry, Vilkas, and I do this when we are stressed. It's our strange way to relax. I shouldn't have let my guard down, and Vilkas called me out on it...physically."

"You sure you're OK?"

"I'm sure. I'm more worried about you, though. You look like shit." Farkas said, no longer laughing.

"I'm OK, just tired."

"After you eat and rest, Skjor said he needs to see you," Vilkas informed Volk.

Volk nodded, stretched, and stumbled his way downstairs, quickly passing out in his new bed and didn't wake up until the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thanks for seeing me, pup," Skjor said when Volk found him eating at a small table in the living quarters.

Volk was already tired of Skjor and Aela with their condescending attitudes. He wanted to speak up, but Skjor was next in line to be Harbinger and didn't want to stir up trouble at the moment. He was too new with the Companions to behave as if he owned the place.

"Sure," Volk sighed out.

"I have another assignment for you. You did your last jobs well, bringing honor to you and the Companions."

"Oh, uhm, thanks…" he replied, surprised this man could give a compliment after the way he talked to him and Farkas. _Perhaps he doesn't mean anything by it._

"This one is a test. We need to see if you are truly Companion material. We received word that there is a fragment of Wuuthrad hidden within Dustman's Cairn. Wuuthrad is an important part of Companion history, and if we can find a piece of the shattered remains, we jump on it. How much do you know about it?"

"I know some, Farkas told me. Ysgramor's great-axe, right?"

"Yes, good. Speaking of which, you are to bring Farkas with you. He will watch you and see if you are honorable."

Volk perked up excitedly with the thought he got to do a mission with Farkas. "Farkas? Uhm, yeah. Sounds good." He tried to downplay his excitement, but he was sure it was planted on his face and heard in his voice.

"Now, I know you two are...getting closer but try not to get him killed."

"I won't, I swear," Volk promised.

"Good, on your way, then."

Later that evening, Volk and Farkas were camping on the moors with plans to reach Dustman's Cairn in the late morning. The two were sitting close to each other by the fire, knowing they had to keep their feelings at bay, but it was hard as their shoulders touched while they ate their rations. Just a simple touch alone, a reminder that they weren't going to give up, and try for more when Volk's memories returned—a small way to rebel against doubt. 

"Do you think you have family out there, Volk?" 

The man shrugged. "I don't know. I assume I have parents. Am I an only child? Do I have a sibling or siblings? Are there, friends? Do...do I have a wife, kids? I wish I knew."

"What does your heart tell you?"

Volk thought about it for a moment. "My instincts are telling me I am not married with kids. I...I don't appear to be interested in women. There are plenty of attractive ones, but none really seem to draw me in any way. You draw me in. I was quickly attracted to you. My gut tells me I like men."

"That's good to know and makes me feel better. I have been...worried about it. If you do have those things, we can never be, but I guess it's something I will have to get over. Despite what your gut says, Kodlak believes you to be a noble, and I can't say I disagree. Your mannerisms say you are. That would mean arranged marriages."

That thought quickly put a damper on things, and Volk moodily thought that Farkas could be right. Volk threw pieces of sticks and grass onto the fire, watching the sparks fly up into nothingness and thought about what to do their situation. Part of him just wanted to throw caution to the wind and just kiss the man anyway—damn the consequences. But if he had a family and he loved them, how could he do that to them and Farkas? 

They shared the same tent, and as Farkas slept, Volk curled up alongside the man, pressed up against his back without holding him to grasp anything he could, feel his warmth.

Farkas felt Volk pressed up against his broad back, and he had to fight every instinct to turn around and hold the man, kiss him. But no amount of will prevented him from doing just that as he rolled over to put an arm around Volk and kissed his head.

"I'm sorry, but apparently I have no self-control. We are just going to hold, OK? That's it…" Farkas explained, wondering who he was really trying to convince.

Volk snuggled in closer to Farkas, happy to have his warmth and an arm around him as he pressed his face against his chest, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Farkas held the torch high in the first chamber of the ruins. "Someone's been in here messing with things," he informed Volk, looking around noting the dead draugr and smashed burial urns that usually held treasures given to the dead for the afterlife. "Probably bandits. Before we go any deeper, I guess I should warn you that there will probably be draugr...walking corpses…"

"Wait; what?" Volk interrupted, eyes wide in surprise.

"Yeah. I probably should have realized before now you wouldn't remember. Most aren't hard to kill, but some are stronger than others."

"Oh, OK." Volk hoped the worst things they had to deal with were bandits.

"You lead and keep your eyes open."

Volk nodded and raised his own torch. They lit other torches as they made their way in the tombs, lighting their way. 

The first crypt they reached, sure enough, were three draugr. Volk only paused for a moment to get his bearings and charged at one of the walking dead, killing it with a downward cut, decapitating the creature. He saw Farkas kill another as one draugr was shooting ice spells at the Companion. _Wait, Farkas said nothing about spells!_

The larger man was dodging the spells, unable to reach the draugr, so Volk pulled out his bow and fired several arrows at the creature, finally killing it.

"You said nothing about magic, Farkas!" Volk scolded, whispering loudly, afraid to wake up any more dead.

Farkas scratched his head, guilt planted on his face. "Yeah, sorry. I, uhm, forgot about those."

"Anything else I need to worry about?"

"Well, now that you mention it, there are some that can use words to injure...some kinda dragon language thing. I've seen a man get thrown across a room once with it."

"OK...good to know…" he said, groaning in his head with worry.

They made their way through the small crypt area and into a large room. Volk had no idea what purpose it served as he looked around to see if they were lucky enough to find the fragments there.

While Volk and Farkas were distracted searching the room, the gate before them raised. The sound of scraping metal drew the attention of the two distracted men when they saw what looked to be at least ten bandits, swords drawn—silver swords 

"Which ones are they?" a female asked.

"It doesn't matter. They wear that armor, they die," said another.

Farkas instantly went on high alert, knowing it was the Silver Hand. Sword drawn, he stood in front of Volk to protect him, not sure how the man would react to the Silver Hand being there after his torture at their hands. He didn't want Volk to freeze and get killed.

"None of you will leave here alive," Farkas informed them more calmly than he felt. His heart raced as he could feel his beast wanting to lash out at the enemy before him; his only thought was protecting Volk.

Volk, wondering why Farkas was blocking his way from the bandits, tried to shove him aside to get by, but the large man wouldn't budge. 

"Move, you lumbering mammoth! Let me fight, dammit! You can't fight them all on your own!" Volk yelled out as soon as the bandits started to attack.

Farkas, knowing he couldn't kill them all, let his beast take control as he quickly changed, armor created just for his shape-shifting fell away. The Silver Hand wasted no time in attacking the creature with their silver swords, unafraid, and not paying attention to the other man, deemed as less of a threat.

Volk was barely able to control his beast before he let it through, unable to contain it after Farkas changed. Loudly roaring, the beasts tore through their enemies like knives to butter. The Silver Hand may have been able to handle other werewolves who were more feral, but there was no preparation for the strength and experience of the Companions. 

Between Farkas and Volk, limbs were dismembered, blood spewed from sliced throats and faces bitten off. As the Silver Hand lessened in numbers, the screams started dying off. One member was struggling to survive with his sword, swinging it widely while another was dragging his bloodied body away from the beasts whimpering in pain. But they couldn't escape the ferocity of the two wolves.

Soon there was only silence before the screams of two beasts slowly and painfully changing back to their human forms. Volk and Farkas were covered in blood, panting heavily from exertion and pain from the change. Volk swallowed the bile that rose after realizing he may have eaten something he didn't want.

Both of them on hands and knees eyed each other, panting. Their eyes a bit wild from their beasts and the slaughter, not to mention they were naked before each other. Volk, adrenaline pumping, crawled over to Farkas and aggressively pressed his bloodied mouth to his. The kiss was rough, tongues wrapping around each other as hands touched, clawed, slipped on slick blood, gripping hair. Volk bit Farkas' bottom lip, drawing blood, which only further spurred the larger man to kiss just as forcefully.

Just as quickly, the adrenaline wore off, and sense started to take over the two as they both reluctantly untangled their bodies. 

"I...uhm," Volk scratched his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry, uhm, I'm not sure what just came over me."

"Yeah, I do. It's the beast. It can do that, and no apologies necessary. I liked it…a lot," Farkas explained as he handed the man his armor and got dressed.

"Urgh, Dammit! I liked it too!" Volk complained. "Forget it... let's go," he resigned and got up to put his armor back on.

"Who were those guys anyway? They weren't just simple bandits. They were too organized."

Farkas was reluctant to say anything, not sure what his reaction would be, but didn't want to lie to him either. "They, uhm, were the Silver Hand. They must be here for the same thing we are." 

Volk absorbed that information as he could feel the rage course through him, not feeling so guilty over the slaughter he just committed. He grew silent as he finished putting on his armor, not wanting to talk and just get the mission over with.

Farkas was concerned about his friend's sudden silence, seeing the anger flared in the man's eyes, face hard. "Volk…"

"Let's go…" he said quietly and walked off.

The deeper they went into the ruins, the more draugr and Silver Hand they had to kill. Volk went through killing as he went with a strange sort of detachment he hadn't felt before. The underlying anger was there, but there was no remorse, no familiar feeling of nausea with the death before him. It would have concerned him had Volk taken the time to think things through, but he only had the death of the Silver Hand on his mind.

It concerned Farkas, though he didn't say anything, just standing by his friend as they moved deeper and deeper through the tomb.

They both came to a large cavernous room with wall-to-wall upright coffins. "Shor's beard, I hope these coffins are for decorative purposes only."

Volk knew Farkas was joking, but he didn't smile, still remaining silent as he inspected the room. He came upon a large wall with strange writing on it and then saw the fragments they were looking for on an embalming table. Grabbing them set forth a series of traps that caused draugr to burst from their confines.

"Crap…" Volk heard from Farkas from behind as he readied his sword.

The two were already tired, too tired to swing any more swords as they gave into their beasts once more, tearing through at least thirty draugr. 

They were exhausted by the time they headed out of the ruins and stumbled their way to a place close by where they could make camp. It was hard enough to change and change back from their beasts once, let alone twice. The switching back and forth from their animals and fighting through Silver Hand and draugr left them almost numb. 

Volk laid on his back on the ground in front of the fire, an arm draped over his face so he couldn't look at Farkas, the guilt finally getting to him. "This...this was my test, and I failed miserably," he groaned. "I had no honor as I plowed through those Silver Hand...I was so angry...I...I didn't feel anything at all. I was so numb. It was a feeling I don't remember having before, and I don't like it."

Farkas sat next to the man on the ground and laid a gentle hand on this thigh. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. You fought bravely, Volk. The Silver Hand do not deserve our remorse, let alone a thought. They have no qualms about torture and killing, and we should not give them an inch of our emotional time…"

"You're not understanding! I don't know if I would call it revenge, but there was a strange sort of detachment. I didn't feel this way when I was on my last mission. It was only the Silver Hand, probably because I was tortured. I don't like that feeling…"

"I do understand, and you didn't let me finish. Look, Volk, we did not expect the Silver Hand to be there, but they were. I have seen people do some horrible things in the name of revenge. Maybe you felt detached, and you didn't like it, but you didn't lash out and slaughter unnecessarily...well, when you weren't a beast, but you know what I mean. I think you fought honorably, and that is what I'm going to tell Skjor."

"You're just biased…" he whined.

Farkas laughed under his breath. "Perhaps, but I'm no liar either."

Volk thought about what he was saying, and perhaps Farkas was right, but he still hated that feeling of detachment. It didn't feel like it was a normal part of him. Then there was the adrenaline pumping kiss. "I'm sorry about the...kiss thing too. We are supposed to keep our distance and…"

Farkas waved the man off. "We already talked about it. What more can I say? It happens and not just to us. I can't exactly say I hated it." He pulled at the man's hand, still covering his eyes and lifted him up, and brushed away his mussed hair from his face. "If that is any indication of what it will be like, it will be worth the wait."

Volk wrapped his arms around his broad neck and rested his head on his chest. "I hope it happens soon."

"Me too, my friend. Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Baby werewolves and an old friend?


	6. New Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volk finally gets initiated into the Companions after Aela returns with a surprise. After being sent on a mission, he runs into someone who knows who he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting!! It means so very much! <3
> 
> I hope everyone is healthy and safe!

Volk's ceremony into the Companions had to be put on hold for a while. When he and Farkas returned from Dustman's Cairn, they found Aela had gone missing, and Skjor was a complete wreck with worry. It wasn't unusual for Aela to run off to hunt and feed in her beast form. She could be gone for days at a time, but she always told someone where she was going, smart enough to know that if the huntress was going to be by herself, someone should know where she was in case something happened.

"What's goin' on, Skjor?" Farkas asked the older man pacing back and forth in frustration in the long hallway down in the living quarters.

"Aela is gone, and I don't know where! It isn't like her! It's only been two days, but she always tells someone where she's going, and that someone is usually me!" 

"What does the Harbinger say about all this?" Volk asked.

"He says we should wait, that she will return in due time. I can't wait! How can I wait?!" 

Farkas had never seen Skjor like this. The man always had great composure, at least outwardly, and strong. It was a rare moment to see him so out of control— _I guess love does that_. "Did you two fight? Did she say anything at all?" 

"No, that's the thing! No fighting...she was just gone when I woke up the other morning. I didn't think anything of it until I didn't see her come to bed that night."

Volk looked at the two men strangely. "We are werewolves, are we not? Can't we just...I don't know, sniff her out?"

"Don't you think I haven't thought of that!" Skjor yelled at the man, eyes wild. "She doesn't want to be found! She maneuvered and trailed a twisted path, masked her scent, so I couldn't follow her. I'm almost certain she left so she couldn't be found, but why?!" 

"Perhaps Kodlak is right then. Maybe we should just wait this out. If she doesn't want to be found, then we won't be able to find her," Farkas suggested.

Skjor sat down in a chair and placed his face in his hands, sighing with a palpable frustration. "How can I when I worry so much?!"

"Look, Skjor, Aela is one of the strongest of us. She is tough and can handle almost anything. She will make it back when she's ready. You know her...something set her off, and she went to handle it in her own way." Farkas patted the older man's back and left him to his worry, unsure what else to say with Volk following close behind.

"Sorry, Volk. We can't do the ceremony until she gets back. Everyone in the Circle needs to be there."

"Hey, don't worry about me, I just hope she can make it back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, Aela returned to Jorrvaskr to everyone's relief. Even the calm and stoic Kodlak showed a glimpse of concern, happy to see her back. 

Her long hair was tangled and matted in places with bits of leaves, bark, and blood, most likely from an animal. She was filthy, and her armor was in tatters. It was already a revealing armor and even more so now that it was virtually in shreds. She didn't care about modesty as she stormed in, grabbed a mug of mead, downed it, and headed down to the living quarters to find Skjor.

Everyone upstairs rushed down the steps, gathering tightly in the alcove, and hid behind the closed doors to eavesdrop on her and Skjor.

"Where in Oblivion have you been!" Skjor yelled. He was relieved to see she was alive, but once he saw she was uninjured, he was angry that she left, not telling anyone where she went. "You go on one of your vengeful rampages again? You could have been killed, and no one would have known!"

"I had to think…" she replied quietly, sitting down at the long table, not looking at him.

Skjor balled his hands into fists doing everything he could to calm his outrage. Her response showed uninterest that everyone was worried about her, that _he_ was concerned about her. "Think? You had to think?! If that was all you had to do, could you have at least told someone where you went?! I...I was terrified something happened to you. You were gone for almost a week!"

"I needed to run with my beast and hunt. I needed some...freedom."

"Freedom? Freedom from me, I suppose."

"Yes," was all she said.

Skjor sat down, deflated, and rubbed his face with his hands in frustration. "So, that's it. I am taking away your valuable freedom, so you ran and hunted. Are you saying you want to be done with me then? Is that it? Am I stifling you too much, Aela?"

"Dammit, Skjor! Why can't I just breathe for a moment without you hovering over me," she lashed out, slamming a hand on the table.

Skjor stammered for a bit, unable to form a cohesive sentence. "H...hover?! I have never hovered over you, Aela. I have always respected your space, and you know it! But I love you and have every right to be worried! How about you respect me enough, to be honest, and tell me the real reason you left."

Aela grabbed a half-eaten crostata sitting on the table and started picking bits off and putting them in her mouth, not caring whose it was, clearly an avoidance tactic. 

"Aela…"

"I'm pregnant…" she blurted, still unable to look at him.

"What? I...I am not sure I heard you. Did you say you were pregnant?"

Aela finally looked at her lover in acknowledgment without saying anything.

"Are you sure?"

Aela stood up, throwing the remaining crostata against the wall. "Of course, I'm sure you horker's ass! Why do you think I ran off?!" 

"But...but this is great news, love! Why does this upset you so much?"

"Why? Why?! Because it changes everything!" she almost screeched out. "I can't be 'Aela the Huntress' tied down with a baby! Don't you get it?"

"I get that we never talked about such things, but it has happened, and maybe instead of running off, we should figure things out together."

"So, this baby doesn't bother you in the least? You won't feel tied down?"

"I probably will, but don't most parents for a while? It's a big change for anyone, but I...I don't know, love, I welcome it. I'm not a young man, and to have a chance at a family that I never expected to have is, well...it makes me happy." Skjor wanted Aela to know he would be there for her and wanted this child. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "I love you, and I would like to do whatever we can to make this work. Can you imagine it? The first Companion pup?"

Aela looked at him sheepishly, trying not to smile, imagining the first baby Companion. "That does sound kinda cute," she admitted.

"See! Our pup will have the best family! We are in this together. Whether you want to get married or not, I will leave that up to you. I know you said you never want to wed, and I have always accepted that, and I still do if that is your wish."

"Thank you, Skjor. I...I guess I should have talked to you about this. I wasn't sure how I felt about it...I was angry at first. I also wasn't sure how you would take it and it...it scared me. I...I didn't want to lose you."

It was one of the sweetest things Aela had ever said to him. They were close, but she wasn't one to waste time on romance or kind words. Her actions spoke for her, so when she told him her fears, all those insecurities he had, washed away.

Skjor pulled Aela onto his lap and held her tightly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you are back safely, but please, if you ever need to run, at least tell me. I don't want to lose you either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, now that Aela was back and the Circle complete, the Companions were able to do the joining ceremony for Volk. He stood next to Farkas, who had a broad smile painted on his face as he looked at his friend. 

It was evening, and the Circle all had torches, the firelight dancing warmly in the training yard. Skjor, Aela, and Vilkas all looked on proudly at their newest member, happy to accept another member into the family. 

Farkas and Volk discretely touched fingers as Kodlak started the small and short ceremony. "Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This man has endured, has challenged, and has shown his valor. Who will speak for him?" 

Volk watched Farkas as he spoke for his friend. "I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us."

"Would you raise your shield in his defense?"

"I would stand at his back, that the world might never overtake us."

"And would you raise your sword in his honor?"

"It stands ready to meet the blood of his foes."

"And would you raise a mug in his name?"

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in his stories."

"Then, the judgment of this Circle is complete. His heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call."

"It shall be so," chanted the rest of the Circle.

Kodlak came up to Volk and clapped him on the back. "Well, boy, you're one of us now. I trust you won't disappoint."

"I will not let you down, Harbinger."

"Glad to hear it! Let's go in and celebrate."

The evening was spent drinking large quantities of mead and eating good food as Volk recounted his two jobs and Dustman's Cairn. It was the only exciting memory he had, but he was happy to at least have something to talk about.

At the end of the night, Vilkas came up to Volk and expressed his pleasure at having a new Companion. He also gave him a missive for a new job in the morning and that he should rest up for the long road. 

Volk and Farkas stumbled down to the living quarters at the end of the evening. They stood for a while awkwardly, perhaps uncertain was a better word for how they felt, wanting to hold each other. They already had pushed things too much as it was, so they just mumbled their goodnights and headed into their respective beds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Volk hid behind a rock outcropping. It was going to be tough to attack these Forsworn. They always seemed to be on high alert. There was a good reason the Forsworn had virtually taken over all of the Reach. They were always ready for anything and formidable.

Vilkas sent Volk on a job to retrieve an enchanted sword. The sword had been stolen, and his investigation had led him to the group of Forsworn before him at Serpent's Bluff Redoubt. He wondered in the back of his mind if this was a two-man job, wishing Farkas was with him. The two would have destroyed the camp.

Two men paced back and forth on watch, scantily clad in fur with elaborate headdresses in antlers and bone. Volk was surprised he made it up the hill unnoticed. The redoubt was on top of a hill that was formerly a tower of some sort. The view, no matter the direction one looked, could see for miles. The only thing that kept Volk from being discovered was the tall grass and large rocks.

As soon as the two sentries walked away from each other, Volk took careful aim at one of them with his bow, arrow ready. He let loose his arrow before they returned to each other and hit the Forsworn in his face, killing him instantly. Volk didn't waste time nocking another arrow, knowing that as soon as the other sentry turned around, he would see his dead friend.

The arrow flew, almost missing the sentry as he moved quickly to his fallen comrade, hitting him in the arm. Volk could hear the man grunt in pain. "Show yourself!" he yelled out in Volk's direction. 

The Companion took a deep breath and slowly peeked over the large stone, taking careful aim once more— _I have to take him out before I rush in there_. Another arrow flew as he prayed none of the other Forsworn heard the man yell out. It hit the man in the gut, and he fell to his knees as Volk fired one more at the man's head. He lay dead on the ground, three arrows protruding out of his body. 

Despite the lack of armor, the Forsworn were tough— _One would have to be living out here in the Reach with limited resources_. Pulling out his sword, Volk quietly rushed forward into the camp. His watch indicated there were at least two more Forsworn in there, grateful that they had not heard all the commotion. 

Volk's luck ran dry for as soon as he entered the camp, a Forsworn male with an axe in each hand, grinned with rotting teeth and quickly came at him. He was fast swinging the axes, and Volk spent more time on the defensive, blocking and dodging the sharp weapons. The Forsworn man was an expert.

He saw the axe coming at him, his sword blocking the other, as its sharp blade pierced through his metal armor into his shoulder. Too much adrenaline was seeping through his veins to feel the pain, but he knew it would arrive soon. Wet warmth traveled down his arm and dripped down into the soil at his feet. 

There was no time to heal anything as the Forsworn man kept coming at him. Volk kicked out at the man in the chest, forcing him to stumble back, but didn't knock him down— _stubborn breed!_ It gave Volk enough time to recuperate, swinging his sword in a deathly arc that sliced through the man from neck to chest, killing him. 

He took his foot to the dead man to pull out his sword and searched the camp, unable to find the fourth Forsworn, assuming they headed inside the fallen tower for backup. Cursing his luck, he headed in. It was a wonder that anything was left of the old building. The whole thing was in a crumbling ruin, except what was underground. Praying to all the gods he could make it out of there alive, he headed in to retrieve the family heirloom and hoped it was all worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dusk by the time he reached outside of the redoubt's fallen tower. His upper arm was in pain from being hit with the axe and still bleeding, and he had a burn on his chest from cooking in his armor when the hagraven blasted him with the fireball, which slammed his back against a stone wall. Volk muffled a scream when he yanked out the arrow that managed to work its way in between armor plates in his knee, digging into soft flesh and cartilage— _That Forsworn archer was too damned good of a shot._

Volk dug in his bag for a couple of healing potions. They would help heal quite a bit of his injuries and take away most of the pain. His beast will help him recover the rest of the way. After he downed the potions and let them travel through his body, he felt only slightly better but knew the medicines took some time to work. 

Brushing away the sweaty hair from his face, he groaned in irritation. He found the stupid sword, and it looked like a piece of crap, realizing it was a waste of his time and hoped he was paid well for his efforts. Deciding he needed a drink, he grabbed his armor and hobbled his way to Rorikstead, which was fortunately close by. _I need a lot of mead and a bed tonight, maybe a few more drafts of healing potion._

Frostfruit Inn was relatively quiet when he sat down at a table with a mead and a bowl of beef stew. His knee was aching something fierce, and he hoped it wasn't permanently damaged. He was too young to live a life hobbling about when he walked. 

Volk ordered another mead and rented a room. When he sat back down, he pulled out his copy of 'King' from his bag to read to pass the time, oblivious to the man across the tavern who had been watching him since the dark-haired man walked in the door.

The Imperial quietly pulled a dagger out of his boot, wishing the tavern was more busy to hide his true intentions. He was so blinded by rage at seeing the injured man, he didn't care if he was tried and hung for murder. The man would get to have his revenge, thanking fate for placing him at the tavern at the same time. He never expected to see him again, believing he was dead along with his younger brother.

Volk suddenly sensed someone behind him, and before he could grab his sword that was set to the side, he felt a dagger press up sharply against his neck. Looking around, Volk could see the innkeeper and a few patrons eyeing the situation carefully, afraid to intervene.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now, Henrik," the man snarled with gritted teeth in Volk's ear.

"I would, stranger, but I don't know who you are or who this 'Henrik' is. I think you have me mistaken for someone else." But as Volk said the words, he doubted if it indeed was a case of mistaken identity. He didn't even know who he was to dispute the man's accusations.

"Turn around slowly and look at me, and tell me that to my face! If you make any sudden movements, you're a dead man, and I don't care what happens to me, so don't think for one second I'm bluffing."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Volk replied blandly as he raised his hands and turned around to face the man. He did not know the man before him, but a flood of memories hit him at that moment. There were memories from lost dreams of shipwrecks and a drowning blonde man. He wasn't the man of his dreams, but he looked similar. 

"Ah, there is the recognition in your eyes. I knew you were lying!" he spat.

"I really am not lying. I...it's strange, but I had a dream, and someone was in it that looked similar to you."

The blonde Imperial looked confused for a moment before it turned to rage once more. "Lies! You know me, and I know you, _Henrik_!"

 _Is that my name? Henrik? "_ Look, I'm not lying. I...I was saved a few weeks ago by some people. I was...tortured for a while, which I think caused me to lose my memories. I know nothing, I swear. I can't remember anything. I have no way to confirm or deny your accusations."

The man looked at Henrik and could see the truth in his eyes. He felt suddenly deflated as he dropped his knife to the ground and wept in his hands, confused as to what to do and missing his brother desperately. He blamed Henrick for the death of Adrian, and now that he was faced with him, who couldn't even remember his brother, what was the point?

"I don't know what is going on or why you are so angry, but I really wish you would explain it to me. I believe when you say I am this Henrik, but...I don't know what has you so angry with me...please."

The weeping man was silent and unmoving, too distraught with emotions at seeing Henrick alive.

"Look, I'm going to get up and get you a drink, OK. I will be right back, so...don't try anything."

Volk limped back with a couple of meads and handed one to the man who was still weeping in his hands. "Come on...try to breathe and tell me what's going on. Take this, it will help."

The Imperial looked up with red and swollen eyes and took the proffered mead. "My name is Steffan, and you killed my brother, Adrian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Volk gets a little insight into who he is.


	7. Fan Art - Farkas and Henrik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe they actually, kinda look like men lol. I spent quite a bit more time on this than normal.
> 
> ** All done in watercolors
> 
> Farkas looks like he does in my game using the Better Men mod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if this doesn't show up...posting pics can be wonky sometimes. Thanks!


	8. Sneak Peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volk listens to Steffan's story, finding a little piece of his past for good or bad. He gets healed by Danica in Whiterun and makes a deal with her, the stumbles, literally, into Farkas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting! <3
> 
> Hope everyone is safe and healthy!

The blonde man took a large gulp of mead before he began, choosing his words carefully.

Volk sat there calmly outwardly, but on the inside, his stomach churned, not sure if he wanted to hear the story of how he killed this man's brother. It would be worse than his nightmares to find out he was some murderer. Deep down, he didn't feel himself to be a killer, but who knew. 

"Andrian and I were very close. Pa died about ten years ago...bandits. It was just me, Adrian and Ma. She had to make due by cleaning houses for the wealthy in Solitude…" 

"Solitude. Is...is that where we are from?"

The blonde man rubbed a hand through the scruff of his beard and looked at the blue-eyed Nord and nodded. "Yes, all of us grew up in Solitude. You are a noble with parents and a little sister, about ten years old or so now. My Ma cleaned your parent's house and is how you got to know my brother. You two couldn't have been more than 16 or 17 when you met…I think Adrian was a year older than you."

"How long ago was that? I don't even know how old I am."

Steffan thought back, dark brown eyes unfocused as he pulled memories from his mind. "I think that was about four or five years ago?"

"So, that would make me what? Twenty-one, twenty-two Winters? Summers?" Volk was trying to search for memories in his mind, using the clues Steffan was giving him, but he was still drawing a blank.

"I guess... it's not like I know your Name Day or anything. Anyway, I know enough about you 'cause Adrian always talked about Henrik this and Henrik that...I mean, we met a lot, you and I, but we didn't exactly hang out. Adrian and I were really close, and I knew everything, even the fact that he liked men, though he didn't tell our Ma.

He said you were watching him one day at the stables playing with electricity in his hands. My brother was pretty good with some spells, and it had you intrigued. You were learning some magic yourself, but your parents frowned upon it, so you asked Adrian to teach you some things in secret."

Volk was getting frustrated. He held up a finger and got them two more mugs of mead. "I wish I could remember any of this," he said as he sat back down, handing a new mead to Steffan.

"None of this is ringing any bells?" The Imperial would have thought he had the wrong man if he didn't know Henrik so well. "Well, you two would sneak off to the stables and practice magic together. He taught you some fire and ice, but mostly you two learned restoration spells...you know, healing.

Eventually, you two became close friends and did everything together. I remember Adrian complaining one day how your parents didn't like you hanging out with the poorer folk, but that never stopped you two. You two were too good of friends to stop."

"He taught me spells. I...I don't even remember that," Volk said in wonder. "Healing sure would have come in handy after today."

Steffan looked at the man, just noticing all his injuries. There was blood all over his shoulder and knee, grimacing every time he had to move. "What happened to you?"

Volk waved an indifferent hand. "It doesn't matter. Please go on."

"Alright...well uhm, skip forward about...not even a year, and soon you two were starting to be more than friends, according to Adrian. He never went into details because I didn't want to hear it... it's not my thing, sorry. Anyway, he said he was falling in love with you and that you felt the same. My stupid brother had dreams of you two being eventually married, living together, having children...that happily ever after horker shit." The blonde's eyes welled up with tears at the memory, his voice laced with bitterness, remembering how happy Adrian was with Henrik, how in love he was. 

"I'm sorry, Steffan. Can you go on?"

The man nodded and wiped away a couple of stray tears. "Yeah, uhm...you two were inseparable. Moving on to about six months ago, Adrian came home sobbing to me. He rushed into my arms and wept as I held him. All his dreams of being with you forever died the day your parents arranged a marriage for you. They had no idea about you and Adrian, but according to noble custom, there was a woman you were to marry. 

Apparently, you wanted nothing to do with marriage to a woman. Adrian said you were willing to give up everything for him, and you both saved your money so you two could flee and be together. I had to admit, I was impressed with you to give up so much for my brother that you loved him enough to do that." 

Steffan's lip quivered as he took a shaky breath to continue while Volk sat and listened to this love story he doesn't even remember.

"The plan was you were to ship out to Windhelm and meet your bride and her family. The marriage was going to be at the Temple of Talos, and your parents would meet up with you later. Instead, you paid for Adrian to come with you onboard the ship. The plan changed, and you two were going to disembark in Dawnstar and flee from there to find a small town or buy a farm to live on far enough away from Solitude. 

Eventually, Adrian came clean to Ma, not wanting to leave her worried. She wasn't happy about any of it, but in the end, she wanted her son to be happy and realized he wouldn't listen to her regardless. So she embraced him and accepted what he wanted."

"The ship never made it, did it?" Volk asked, dread in his voice, flashes of memory from dreams came unbidden to his mind.

"No, it didn't. There was a storm, and the ship sank, killing all but a couple of sailors on board or those who made it to the only rowboat. If it wasn't the drowning, it was the hypothermia that killed. We all thought you died too.

You should know your parents never knew about Adrian. They assumed you died on that ship on your way to Windhelm, and I never told them otherwise. But in the end, you dragged my brother with you, fleeing. If you had just done your duty instead of you two traipsing about, caring about no one other than yourselves, my brother would be alive!"

Steffan was angry again. He knew Henrik didn't sink the ship on purpose but believed he should have done his duty, got married, and left Adrian home. His brother would have been miserable, but at least he would have been alive.

Volk's past dreams kept flashing before him, remember the face of the blonde man drowning, and his own struggles to save him. "I am so sorry, Steffan. I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss...apparently, mine too. I wish I could remember. I just have flashes from dreams where I was in a sinking ship, and I kept trying to save a blonde man from drowning. That's all I have."

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you. Deep down, I know you didn't do this on purpose, but I was so angry when I saw you alive tonight. I thought you died with Adrian and then to find out you lived, and only he died...something just snapped in me."

"It's perfectly understandable. I am sure I would have reacted similarly. So...so, this happened recently then?"

"Aye, about two months ago."

_Two months, so not that long ago._ Volk knew that once he got his memories recovered, there would probably be grieving if his relationship with this man was as strong as Steffan indicated.

"You don't remember how you lived through it? What happened to you then?" Steffan wanted to know.

Volk shrugged. "All I remember is brutality. I woke up in some sort of prison...no idea where. I was being tortured repeatedly. I'm not going to get into details about it. I think the pain forced me to block everything. If I face my pain, perhaps I could remember, but I don't know how to do that. The Companions, don't know if you have heard of them…"

Steffan nodded that he had.

"They saved me and got me out of there. I...I have joined them and am a Companion now myself. It's only been about three weeks there, still learning."

They sat quietly, sipping mead, lost in thought. Volk— _Henrik_ —wanted to know more about his family. Perhaps he should go see them and tell them he's alive. " _Hi Mom and Dad, I know you thought I was dead, and here I am, sorry about that. I don't remember you either." That would go over well_.

Inwardly, Volk was relieved he didn't actually kill the man's brother. He worried they fought, and he killed him by the sword or murdered him. 

"Can you tell me a bit about my family and who I am?"

"Yeah, you all are wealthy...I mean, _wealthy_. Your little sister is named Svari, but she looks like your mom with red hair and brown eyes, and you look like your dad with dark hair and blue-eyes. I don't know your parent's first names, but your family name is Storm-Shield...a very Nord name. And don't ask me about your bride to be...no idea other than she was a Nord too."

It was late, and the two said their goodnights. Steffan wasn't going to stay and decided to leave that night and travel back onward to Helgen. 

"I've joined the Legion with the Civil War going on. I'm sure you would have joined the Stormcloaks being Nords and all, but then again, your family enjoys wealth, so who knows. Anyway, now that Alduin...well, I'm sure you don't remember, is dead and gone, the Legion has been tasked to rebuild Helgen to prepare for more soldiers coming up from Cyrodiil. Anyway, despite earlier tonight, I...I'm glad you lived, and I guess I have to learn to live without my brother finally."

"Take care, Steffan. Thank you for sharing with me the story of your brother. I don't know what else to say except sorry again for your loss."

Steffan nodded respectfully and left Frostfruit Inn. "See ya around, Henrik."

Volk was on his back in bed, arm tucked under his head lost in thought. If what Steffan said was right, he was not married with kids. While he wanted to be excited about that knowing he could be with Farkas, he was reluctant. He was afraid to get attached to the man only to get flooded with memories, then grief. It wouldn't be fair for the big guy to put him through that. One thing he knew for sure was he had to seek out his parents in Solitude and let them know he was alive. _Or maybe I shouldn't. They would try to get me to marry again. No, I'm going to tell them the truth. I have a new life now_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning Volk rented a horse in Rorikstead to ride back to Whiterun, his knee killing him. It was swollen despite the healing potions. _I need to learn my healing spells. Maybe there is someone in Whiterun who can help teach me._

Volk had hoped that talking to Steffan would have set his memories in motion, but there was still nothing when he woke up in the morning. Not wanting to delay any more in getting back, he lightly spurred the horse into a gallop as he made his way back home to Jorrvaskr and Farkas.

He landed hard on the ground, grunting as the pain flared up in his knee and shot through his leg when he got off the horse. 

He limped to the Temple of Kynareth, knowing there were healers there, to get healed and find someone to teach him healing spells. Volk wanted to see Farkas immediately, but his knee had other plans. His werewolf would have helped him eventually heal, but it was taking too long, and he could barely walk as it was.

The temple was quiet, except for a few groaning people who were being treated for various injuries or illnesses. He limped over when he saw a woman in yellow robes, healing a man with some sickness.

"Can I see you when you're done, ma'am?" Volk asked politely.

The woman didn't look over at him but nodded her head in acknowledgment.

He limped over to a bench to sit and wait. After a few minutes, the woman walked over to him. "How can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft as a whisper.

Volk looked up at her and could barely see her face through her hood, not knowing what she looked like or if she were young or old. "My knee got shot with an arrow, and the healing potions I took didn't seem to help all that much."

"I need you to remove your breeches, please."

Volk looked around uncertain, not wanting to undress in front of everyone.

"I cannot treat you if I can't see your injury. No one here cares."

He nodded and removed his breeches, sitting in his smalls feeling exposed. Sitting back down, Danica inspected his knee, which was an angry red and swollen. At least it wasn't bleeding any more. 

"Looks painful," she informed him as if he didn't know. "I'm glad you came to see me. It would have turned into a nasty infection if you had waited." 

The woman's hands started to glow in yellows and oranges as she gently rubbed them on his knee. Volk could feel warmth permeating through his knee as the pain slowly started to ease, breathing a sigh of relief. It didn't take her long before his leg was fully healed.

"Thank you…uhm, sorry, what's your name?"

"I am Danica Pure-Spring."

"Thank you, Danica. That feels fantastic. What do I owe you?"

"You owe me nothing, but it would be greatly appreciated if you donated to the temple."

"That I can certainly do." Pulling up his breeches, he looked back at the woman who was walking away to treat someone else. "Hey, I have a question before you go."

"What is it?" she asked, turning around.

"Could...uhm, could you teach me how to use restoration spells? Apparently, I was trained before, but I uh, lost my memory and have forgotten everything. I can pay you."

"I would be glad to teach you, but my price isn't monetary."

"What would you have of me then?"

"The Gildergreen, outside, was planted as a seedling in the early years of Whiterun. Disciples of Kynareth could sense something holy in it, and traveled far to hear the winds of the goddess in its branches. Of course, not as many pilgrims these days."

"With the war?" Volk asked.

Danica nodded. "That and a big dead tree isn't very inspiring if you're coming to worship the divine of wind and rains. Kynareth gives life, and we need a living tree to be her symbol.

To the east of here is a hidden grove where the Eldergleam resides. It's the oldest living thing in Skyrim. Maybe all of Tamriel. Our tree here in the city was grown from a cutting of that tree. You can still feel the glory of the mother tree through it. Even its name is an echo."

"I'm not following you, Danica. I'm no gardener and can't bring trees back to life."

"I am aware of that, young man. Trees like this never really die. They only slumber. I think if we had some of the sap from the parent tree, we could wake up its child. But even if you could get to the Eldergleam, you couldn't tap it. Not with any typical metal.

If you want my help in training you, you'll need something to cut into it. You'll have to deal with the Hagravens. I've heard about a weapon they've made for sacrificing Spriggans. It's called 'Nettlebane.' The hags terrify me, or I would have gone after it myself."

Volk inwardly groaned. He had no idea what hagravens were, but he knew he wasn't going to like it. It sounded like a long mission just to get training in healing. Though perhaps it would be worth it to be able to not only heal himself but maybe someone he cared about. "So, I find this…' Nettlebane,' then what?"

"You will have to cut into the Eldergleam tree and take some sap from it. I will mark it on your map where the hagravens reside as well as where the Eldergleam is located. In the meantime, when you are around, I will teach you restoration magic. Be here first thing in the morning, and we can get started."

"We have an agreement," Volk bowed. 

Volk headed back to Jorrvaskr, looking forward to seeing Farkas as well as learning restoration magic. He was pleased she was going to start immediately and not wait until he was thoroughly done with his quest, trusting him to adhere to his promise. _Maybe I can bring Farkas with me_.

The first thing Volk did was seek out Vilkas despite his desire to see Farkas first. He had to turn in the enchanted sword to the other twin and get paid to make sure Vilkas knew the job was complete.

It didn't matter if he sought out Vilkas first, for the brothers were both out in the training yard sparring with the whelps. 

"It's done then. You have brought honor to the Companions and yourself," Vilkas said, quite pleased that Volk finished the job successfully.

"Well, not sure about that. Fighting off Forsworn for a rusty old sword didn't feel very honorable," he griped, still remembering all his injuries.

"Well, maybe so, but that's not our business. We were paid to do a job, and we do it. Speaking of which, here's your pay, 800 Septim."

That was a lot more than Volk was expecting. His other jobs earned him a fraction of that. "Oh, well, maybe it was worth it after all!"

"That's the spirit!" Vilkas yelled out, clapping him on the back.

When he was finished with Vilkas, he eyed Farkas and mouthed 'can we talk' talk to him when he got a break. Farkas nodded, and Volk went in to bathe away the muscle stiffness, dirt, and blood.

The steam from the hot water seeped into his pores, relaxing him and making him sleepy. Not wanting to fall asleep in the water and potentially drown, he quickly lathered his hair and skin with soap, rinsed and got out. 

Volk was shutting the door to the washroom, not looking where he was going and crashed into Farkas, who had just entered the living quarters. Farkas' eyes went wide as he looked up and down at Volk's wet body, only wrapped in a towel around his waist. His hair was damp and dripping still, the water turning his hair into waves. 

Swallowing hard at the sight of the handsome Nord, he stammered. "Y...you w...ahem, wanted to see me?"

"Farkas, I think this is the first time I have left you speechless," Volk teased and grinned at the larger man. 

"Looking at you, who wouldn't be rendered speechless?"

"You flatter…" Volk snorted. "Come on; we gotta talk."

Volk walked straight to Farkas' bedroom and fell on his bed. "Urgh, I'm so tired, but there's something I have to tell you."

"You aren't going to talk to me dressed like that, are you?"

Volk looked down and grinned back up at the Companions. "Maybe…I have to find a way to keep you interested as we wait for my memories to return."

Farkas growled, but not in anger. It was more like a playful growl with a hint of pleasure. "You're a damned tease, Volk."

"Sit down and talk to me," Volk insisted, smiling up at the man as he patted the bed.

"You're killin' me…fine, what do we have to talk about?" he asked as Farkas sat next to his half-naked friend, and now the object of his desire.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: The good stuff...


	9. Good News and Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Volk gives Farkas the rundown on what happened in Rorikstead. He finds that Danica might be able to recover his memory. Farkas and Volk go on an adventure to bring the Gildergreen tree back to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! <3

Farkas sat on his bed, back leaning against the wall, as Volk draped his legs onto his lap, arms folded under his head, making himself quite at home. 

"Well, which is it?" Volk asked.

"Fine, let's go with good news since everyone else always chooses bad news first, gettin’ it out of the way and all. Gotta be different once in a while, right."

"Indeed! OK, the good news is while in Rorikstead, I ran into a man who tried to kill me…"

Farkas sat up in shock. "Wait! How is _that_ good news?"

"Are you going to let me finish the story, or are you going to keep pestering me with questions? Anyway, this man claimed I killed his brother. The man knows me, Fark...Apparently, my name is Henrik, and I'm from Solitude, and part of the Storm-Shield family. I have a little sister who is ten years old, and my family is wealthy, and I'm around twenty-one or twenty-two."

"Seriously?! That _is_ good news, though not sure about the whole killing brother business. You're younger than I thought, though. I'm feelin' old now."

"How old are you? I didn’t even think to ask."

"Add about ten years to your age."

Volk waved an indifferent hand. "Bah, that's nothing. I would never have guessed."

"Flatterer. So, you sure this guy knew you for certain?"

"Yeah, he definitely knew me. He never once wavered in that. That's not all. The best part is I'm not married with kids…"

Farkas gave Volk a mischievous smile as he ran a hand up Volk's leg lying in his lap. "The best news yet!"

"Well, there is a problem...onward to the bad news." 

Groaning, Farkas stilled his hand, snaking up Volk's thigh, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest. 

"You know all those dreams I have of a shipwreck and a drowning man that always leaves me upset?"

Farkas nodded, praying to the Nine that what Volk was about to tell him won't keep them from finally being together. "Yeah…?"

"That is the brother I killed, though indirectly. I didn't kill him maliciously. According to this man, his name is Steffan, and the man on the ship was his younger brother Adrian. We were...we were lovers, Fark, lovers for a long time. My parents were shipping me off to Windhelm to get married to some Nord girl they had arranged. Adrian and I, determined to be together, set sail on that ship, but not for Windhelm. We intended to go to Dawnstar and go from there to make a life together…"

"The ship sank, and he died," Farkas finished for him, sighing, knowing where the bad news was coming in. "You haven't grieved…"

"Right…" Volk whispered. "If I have been with this guy for a long time and was willing to give up my whole life for him, well... it's probably going to be bad, Fark, when I get my memories recovered."

"Yeah…I get it." Farkas, while pleased with no wife and kids tying Volk down, they still had to deal with the eventual emotional trauma.

"I'm torn, Fark. I...I want to be with you, but I don't want there to be a chance I push you away, hurting you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can, but I am not sure I want to risk pain for you."

Farkas finally looked at his friend as he grabbed one of Volk's feet and started rubbing with firm, calloused fingers. "I think, if you are sure you want to do this, then I get to decide how much pain I suffer as a result. I do think if you have some happy memories to fall back on, maybe it would ease your eventual grief...make you feel not so alone."

Maybe Farkas was right. To have happiness to fall back on, something to look forward to, it could help. "You think?" And perhaps it was just wishful thinking on their part.

"Yeah, I think…" Farkas whispered as he started to kiss Volk's foot. "So, what do I call you then?"

Volk could feel heat and desire build up in him as Farkas nibbled on a toe. He sat up and pressed his forehead to the Companion. "You can call me whatever you want…"

Farkas smirked at the young man. "As I said, you're a damned tease."

"I try. Anyway, we can stick to Volk until I confirm everything with my family if they really are my family," he explained as he trailed fingers along Farkas' arm and softly dragged them to his shoulders and neck. Volk pulled Farkas' head as he pressed a tender kiss on the man's lips. "Will you come with me?"

Farkas returned the kiss with his own as he slid a hand inside Volk's thigh once more. "Definitely…"

"I want you," Volk whispered.

"I want you too, but it's gonna have to wait. I gotta get back to training the whelps. Take a nap here if you want, and we will finish this later, and don't you dare get dressed."

Farkas was pulling away, but Volk held firm, insisting on one more kiss. It was delicate and soft, but soon became heated as they inserted tongues, both of them grabbing each other's hair from the back. He finally let go of Volk and gently pushed him away. "You're killin' me…"

Farkas stood up and adjusted his breeches from the hard ache in between his legs, making Volk laugh, quite pleased with the result of Farkas' reaction.

"Laugh it up, whelp," Farkas growled playfully as he adjusted once more and headed back out to the training yard.

The lack of sleep from the night before and the long ride back to Whiterun had left Volk exhausted. He was comfortable in Farkas' bed, which was much better than his own. Grabbing a pillow, he inhaled Farkas' scent, a smell he would know anywhere by now, thanks to his beast. With covers drawn over him and a pillow to hold, he soon fell asleep into a dreamless rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a tray of food in one hand, Farkas tried to balance it as he opened his bedroom door and entered his dimly lit room with one candle flickering in a corner. He had a feeling Volk was still sleeping and was about to miss dinner. Instead, Farkas thought they could eat in his room. 

Setting down the tray, he looked over to the sleeping form in his bed. Farkas had a crooked smile on his face watching Volk sleep. The man was snuggling with one of his pillows, tangled covers only covering his torso with one bare leg curled upwards. He was a beautiful sight.

The bed barely had enough room for both of them, but Farkas managed to squeeze in and laid next to Volk. The younger man was so attractive, and his face looked even younger with sleep, the scruff of his beard thick. He brushed the long bangs out of Volk's face watching him stir awake to the light touches. 

Volk stretched his long and muscular legs, yawned, and fluttered his eyes open to see Farkas in front of him with damp hair having recently bathed. He smiled at the larger man and pulled him into an embrace, nuzzling his face into Farkas' neck.

"It's time to get up... you've been sleepin' for a few hours now. I brought you some dinner."

Volk nibbled on Farkas' shoulder, trying not to think about his need to eventually grieve. "You're all I need for dinner…"

"Well, I may be edible, but I'm definitely not filling...unable to cure hunger, and all that."

"I don't know, I think it depends on the type of hunger."

"Damned tease…"

Farkas got up and pulled Volk along with him to eat. "Come on. You may want to starve, but I'm famished. Food first."

"Fine…" Volk pretended to grump.

Both of them wearing towels around their waists, sat at a small table with two chairs as they ate some pheasant stew with root vegetables trying to ignore the fact that they were both naked underneath, though unsuccessfully. 

With the meal finished and washed dinner down with mead, Volk could wait no longer as he stood pulling Farkas upright. There was a moment of awkward silence as they stood there looking at each other, eyes heated, though both hesitant to make the first move. It felt like minutes when it was mere seconds before Volk was grasping Farkas' head with firm hands, fingers scraping shaved stubble, lips pressed firmly against his. Their tongues found each other and entwined, breathing heavier as kisses deepened, Farkas' fingers digging into Volk's hips.

They both came up for air as their eyes quickly scanned each other's faces before plunging lips once more. Their kiss intensified as Volk yanked off their towels. The only thought swirling in their minds was figuring out where to kiss and touch next as lips and fingers explored each other for the first time. Volk couldn't remember when he made love, using muscle memory and instincts to guide him.

The separation from Volk's lips left him feeling empty until Farkas planted kisses along his stubbly chin and down the side of his neck, nibbling. Volk dragged fingers through Farkas' thick cropped hair, moaning with each nibble given. His hardness was quickly becoming unbearable, wanting to seek the sweet release, yet wanting such feelings to linger. 

Their nibbling, kissing, licking didn't subside as Volk was walked backward to the bed by the larger man, both of them falling hard on their backs. Volk's body stilled as Farkas pressed a firm hand to his chest, preventing him from sitting up, feeling his lips glide down the younger man's abdomen. A sound similar to a hiss escaped Volk's mouth when the warm tongue reached his sensitive tip, building up the heat. He could not remember anyone pleasuring him before, so he tried not to be self-conscious, but nervousness remained intermingled with desire. Fists tangled in blankets as Farkas teased and licked.

Before Volk lost it, Farkas worked his way back up Volk's body, not wanting him finished just yet, as they kissed once more with hunger. Volk shoved Farkas off of him, rolling him on his back as he straddled the larger man. He had to catch his breath for a moment to admire the man beneath him as he grazed fingernails along Farkas' flesh. He wanted to express how much he wanted the Companion, but words would not form in his mouth. 

Farkas flipped Volk back over and separated for a moment, grabbing something from a drawer next to the bed. Opening the jar, he dipped a finger in it, then Volk plunged his lips once more to Farkas' mouth, seeking out his tongue as Farkas worked a hand down between the man's legs and slipped a finger in his tight entrance. 

"In me already…" Volk managed to pant out.

Farkas just grunted, applied more of the oily substance to his hardness, then slowly eased into Volk bit by bit watching him to ensure there was no pain before he proceeded. A groan slipped out at the tightness, trying to focus on control. He felt hands tightly gripping his forearms as Farkas started to slowly roll his hips, watching Volk watching him, lips parted as they both panted in pleasure. Henrik danced his fingers around Farkas' body, trying to feel every inch of the man.

Farkas already could feel the pressure building, pressing forehead to forehead, trying to control himself. He moved in and out careful not to hit too hard or too deep, the sounds coming out of Volk's mouth an indication he was hitting things just right. The sight of Volk grabbing his hardness as he started to pleasure himself almost sent Farkas over the edge. 

Hips thrust up and down as Volk got closer, he wanted to hold out longer, but it was taking all his will. Feeling Farkas inside him was better than he could have imagined. Finally, giving up in holding out, his hand moved faster, building friction and pleasure. The feeling of Farkas filling him and hitting that sensitive spot culminated as he exploded and shuddered for a moment, feeling those spasmodic muscles tighten. Farkas was not far behind as he too exploded inside of Volk, wanting to wait until the man underneath him was finished.

Face in Volks neck, Farkas tried to silence his moans as he collapsed on top of the man. Both of them were shaking from their pleasures, sweating. Volk wrapped his arms around the larger man waiting for his heart to calm down. 

"That was…" Volk whispered.

"Yeah…"

"...so much better than I expected. You think I...I could do that to you some time too?"

"Volk, you can do whatever you wish to me," Farkas replied as he stifled a yawn as he rolled over next to him.

Weak in their pleasure, they tangled their bodies together and quickly fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Volk was disoriented for a moment when he woke up, but a hand pulled him in tight to the warm body behind him. A smile appeared on his face with memories of the night before. He tangled fingers in the hand on his stomach and closed his eyes once more, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep.

Farkas must have been waking up as he removed his hand from Volk's, and moved to the man's inner thigh. Volk could feel his hot breath on his neck, sending goosebumps down his arm, feeling the hardness growing on his backside. As much as he wanted him again, he had plans for the early morning.

Volk turned around to see Farkas awake, smiling at him with sleepy eyes. "How about a little wake-up fun?" Farkas asked, stifling a yawn.

Volk snorted, "I couldn't tell you wanted such a thing with you pressed up against my backside."

"Not like I was hidin' it."

"Clearly. I would love nothing better than to spend an entire day in bed with you, but I have to go see Danica at the Temple of Kynareth and learn some restoration magic. I want to go to Solitude first, but I promised her I would do this mission in return for her teachings. Do you have anything going on? Wanna come?"

"I don't think I have too much goin' on...just trainin' whelps, but someone else can take over. I can have Aela or Skjor do it for me."

Volk got cleaned up and headed to the Temple as Farkas packed their bags to get ready for their trip with plans on leaving after lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You said you lost your memories?" Danica asked as she watched Volk practice his lesser healing spell. His hand glowing properly as he placed it on a man lying before him, who had a small wound on his arm. She watched the man wide-eyed as the small wound started to stitch itself.

"Wow, that... that's amazing!" Volk said without answering her question. "Sorry, what?"

"You lost your memories…," Danica repeated.

"Oh yeah, I, uhm, was tortured for who knows how long and I forgot my life from before."

She looked at the large man and wondered how he could be so nonchalant about it as if discussing what he had for breakfast. "This was recent? How are you so calm about it? I have had men in here suffering from torture, struggling to cope, and while I could cure their bodies, I couldn't help their minds."

"I feel it, I have nightmares, but...I, I don't know. I think I'm not processing it. I have a feeling if I process it, maybe I can get my memories back, but I'm afraid. Something is holding me back." Volk wasn't sure why he was so forthcoming with the woman, whom he barely knew. She just had a calming way about her that made him feel comfortable.

"I see, so you are compartmentalizing." When he looked at her blankly, she explained further. "It's a defense mechanism people do sometimes to help deal with anxiety or pain."

"Oh, maybe that's what I'm doing," Volk shrugged.

"If you would like, after you have retrieved the sap, I would like to give you a gift. A gift beyond teaching you more advanced healing. I am fairly exceptional at restoration. While I am not able to cure the minds that are lost emotionally, I am certain, with some time, I can help you recover your memories."

Volk looked at her wide-eyed, realizing the extent of restoration magic. "That's...well, that's impressive. You can do that?"

"I think so. I haven't tried it on anyone, but restoration can be powerful magic at master levels."

"OK, I think I would like that, thank you."

"Just be prepared for dealing with emotional pain. Your torture will start to feel more real, so you may want to make sure this is what you want."

"I'm already going to be in pain. Apparently, I lost someone very close to me a couple of months ago. I will feel that too, but I want to remember him...remember my life, my family."

"Very well. Retrieve the sap, and we will get started on your recovery."

"Thank you, Danica. You are a good woman."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What in Oblivion is that thing?" Volk grunted quietly, hiding behind a large boulder next to Farkas.

"Thay, my friend, is a Hagraven." 

"So that is what Danica was talking about. She's...it...is disgusting."

The Hagraven was cutting into a Spriggan while the witches around her were doing various tasks of cooking, chopping wood, or surveying the area to ensure no danger came to them. 

"You sure you want to do this? It's gonna be hard to dodge all that magic."

"Yeah, I promised Danica, and I intend to keep it. Look, you can stay here if you want, but I need to do this." Volk's plan was to take them out one-by-one with his bow.

"Not a chance. Do not think for one second you're leaving me behind."

Volk suddenly smiled at the man. "I wouldn't dream of it." He leaned in and kissed Farkas before he took aim and took one of the witches out without the others being alerted.

Both, as stealthily as they could, maneuvered over towards another large boulder, grateful the area was covered in them being so high up in the mountains. 

Volk took careful aim, taking out another witch. He looked at Farkas and cocked an eyebrow with a smirk. Farkas held up two fingers indicating there were two more witches left before they reached the Hagraven.

Volk managed to take out all the witches, but the last death caught the notice of the Hagraven, who started targeting the duo with her fire spells. They dodged and rolled out of the way, as they neared the hag with swords drawn, having no choice without the magic of their own.

She anticipated the next rolling towards her as she blasted Farkas in the chest that flung him back several feet, knocking the wind out of him. He quickly recovered as the metal of his armor was scorching hot and burning his chest. Unstrapping it, he threw the heavy armor off, grasping his chest in pain as it burned.

Volk couldn't rush to his side, having to deal with the immediate threat first. He pushed aside worry and swung his sword in a graceful arch while she was distracted as it came bearing down on her, slicing cleanly through her neck. Her head rolled on the ground with a thud as Volk choked back the expected bile and ran to check on Farkas, who was grasping his burnt chest in pain.

"Move your hands!" Volk demanded as he used his newly learned healing spell on Farkas. It wasn't overpowering, but it was enough to ease the pain and stop the burning. 

"Oh, that feels good."

"Shut up. Here, take this healing potion," Volk said, worriedly handing him a bottle of medicine.

"No need to be so grumpy. I'm the one who lost chest hair."

"Grumpy? You almost died, horker's ass."

"I didn't almost die...she burned me a little. I'm fine, as you can see. I can take a lot."

Volk punched Farkas in the arm angrily. He didn't know why he was overreacting to the situation, upset that Farkas wasn't taking it more seriously.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"Nothing, let's just go."

Farkas grabbed Volk by the arm firmly to keep him from walking away. "No, what is going on, Volk."

Volk sat on the ground dejectedly. "I...I don't know. I felt helpless, reminding me of watching that man drown in my dreams. It was the same feeling. I don't like it."

"I see now. Look, it wasn't your fault then, and this isn't your fault now. I got injured, and you helped me, but I know what I'm getting myself into. I risk my life all the time...it's my job."

Volk nodded quickly. "Yes, you're right. I couldn't help it. I took it out on you, I'm sorry."

Farkas pulled Volk in for a small kiss, foreheads pressed against each other. "I'm glad you care, but we are in this together."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eldergleam Sanctuary in Eastmarch was one of the most beautiful things the two men had ever experienced, not that Volk had memories of such things. They spun around the grove in awe, such strange beauty in a land that was harsh and unforgiving. The Sanctuary was a little oasis that would leave even the hardest of men in a state of bliss.

The Eldergleam sat on top of a peak bursting forth with hues of pinks, its tendrils of thick branches reaching out as if to embrace worshippers. The air was fresh from waterfalls and a rushing river as Mundus beamed down through the opening atop the cave. The grove was covered in grasses, plants, moss, and fluttering butterflies. Unlike the outside, it was warm in the Sanctuary.

Volk pulled out the ancient dagger, Nettlebane. The thing looked as if it were carved out of vines and plants from the tree itself, giving off a strange greenish hue. Both men climbed the rock and thick roots to reach the massive tree. But before Volk could dig into the tree, four Spriggans, guardians, burst forth from their hiding places and started to attack the men. They appeared as if the trees themselves came to life, trees that were female. Their bodies were covered in twisting wood and vines, glowing green inside from their taproot. They were masters at camouflage and invisibility.

Volk suddenly found himself surrounded by a swarm of bees as he swatted them away while Farkas managed to dodge the spell, quickly killing two Spriggans. While they were strong spell casters, using nature to their advantage, their bodies were weak. 

The spell wore off, and Volk was able to cut down another Spriggan with his sword. It was Farkas' turn to be swarmed by the eerie green bees as he grunted in pain with their strange stinging sensation all over his face. Volk threw his sword to the ground and drew his bow, not wanting to get close as he fired several arrows before the last Spriggan went down.

Volk cast a healing spell to both of their faces, which were covered in stings, swelling red, burning bumps. Then he took Nettlebane once more and dug into the tree, gathering the sap that oozed into an empty jar. Closing it tightly, they headed back to Whiterun, mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Memories suck


	10. A Sieve of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danica Pure-Spring guides Volk in recovering his memories with her powerful restoration magic. Memories flood his mind from his first kiss to time spent with his father, to his first love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments, any comments, welcome. <3
> 
> Hope everyone is safe!

Danica handed Volk a mug of some sort of hot tea that had a slight repulsive smell, almost rancid, reluctant to drink it. "It is not the best-tasting tea, but it will help you relax more, making it easier for me to get your memories back. I have put honey in it to cut the bitterness out as much as possible. Please drink it all and lie down on the table over there."

Volk wanted to chug the vile liquid, no amount of honey could get rid of the bitterness, but it was too hot to do so. When he finished choking it down, he lumbered over to the table used to treat patients and laid down.

"Will you stay, Fark?"

"I wouldn't dream of leavin'," he replied with an encouraging smile as he pulled up a chair to sit next to him. Grabbing his hand, he entwined his fingers with Volk's. The man's hand was clammy from nerves, but Farkas ignored it, understanding his worry.

Danica placed a chair behind Volk, hands glowing as she hovered her them on each side of his head. "I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Breathe in slowly through the nose and out slowly through the mouth. Good. Keep doing that until you feel completely relaxed and have no thoughts other than your breathing."

Volk could feel the warmth seep through his head as his eyes grew heavy, and he felt sleepy. Senses started to leave him, feeling Farkas' hand in his less and less. It was an odd tingly numbness that coursed through him. He tried not to wonder if it was working or not, focusing on keeping his mind blank and his breathing steady.

Flashes of faces and people appeared behind closed eyelids like ghosts, some more tangible than others. Abruptly, Volk found himself to be a child of no more than twelve.

_"Come on, Henrik!" the blonde-haired girl yelled out. "We are all going to the pond to swim."_

_Henrik was a shy boy, but quickly made friends. Kids took a liking to him despite his quiet demeanor. "But...but aren't there slaughterfish in there?"_

_"Yeah, so? We will just smash them with rocks, and I got my Pa's knife." The girl lifted her skirts to show skinny fair-skinned legs with a dagger sticking out of her boot._

_Henrik turned beet red, feeling himself blush at the Breton girl's naked legs. "Melie, you shouldn't lift your skirts like that," he whispered loudly, dragging her away from prying eyes._

_Melie looked at him slyly. "You like what you see, Henrik?"_

_"No!" he yelled out defiantly, face blushing._

_She giggled at his embarrassment. "Come on...stop being such a baby." Melie grabbed Henrik's hand and dragged him to the pond outside of Solitude, where the rest of their friends were waiting, all in various stages of disrobing, dead Slaughterfish on the shore._

_Henrik was the last to get undressed as Melie ran off in only her shift, her newly blossoming bosom perky in the cold water. He quickly looked away, but not before she caught him staring._

_He wasn't looking at Melie due to any interest in her, but he couldn't help being curious. Henrik had his eyes set on the Altmer boy behind her, whose mother owned a clothing shop. He was the tallest in the group as High Elves tended to be, with long ash blonde hair that cascaded around his long pointed ears and down his back, fanning out in the water. He looked like a living statue. Faelian was only thirteen summers but had already started to develop muscles in his lean, golden body._

_Henrik was smaller for his age; his parents promised he would grow to be tall like his father, that he was just a late bloomer. He hoped so, wanting to be big and strong. Faelian would never be interested in a small weakling._

_He tentatively got in the water as the cold seeped into his bones. The kids laughed at him as Melie splashed water over him. "You're a Nord! You're supposed to like cold things!"_

_Not wanting to be made fun of, he dove into the water and came up gasping not for just breath but from the cold. He looked over to see Faelian smiling at him with perfect white teeth, making him lightly blush, but he gave him an awkward and crooked smile in return._

_Henrik's eyes burst open wide when Melie threw herself at him. Her blonde hair drenched, lips blue from the cold water as she shivered. Her green eyes stared into his blue ones with a smirk on her face. He could feel her developing body pressed up against his, making him uncomfortable. "You're even warm in this cold water! Damn Nords!" she giggled._

_He laughed half-heartedly, wishing she would get off of him and looked over at Faelian, who had a knowing smile on his face, his golden eyes gleaming in humor. Henrik inwardly groaned. Thankfully, another Nord boy pulled Melie off of Henrik and held her. "You want warmth; I got warmth for ya!"_

_Melie splashed the boy teasingly, "Jorunn, maybe I don't want you to warm me." She winked at the boy who pretended to pout. Swimming back over to Henrik, she wrapped her arms about his neck again, and he felt obligated to hold her back. The smirk was suddenly replaced with a look of seriousness._

_To his surprise, Melie's lips parted as she moved her face closer to his and planted a kiss on his mouth. Her eyes closed while Henrik's were wide open, watching the other boys trying not to laugh. Henrik was so embarrassed and didn't want Faelian to think he liked the girl, but the damage was done. Henrik pushed her away and swam back to shore, grabbing his clothes and ran back to Solitude. He didn't see the look of disappointment on the girl's face. It would be several months before she talked to him again._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Darkness formed in Volk's mind as his memory vanished, and new images emerged, like threads of a torn blanket raveling back together.

_Henrik was almost thirteen Winters, and his parents prepared a big Name Day party for him in celebration of his first teen years. He was up in his sister's room playing, promising to watch over her while everyone got ready for the party. She was only three as she waddled around, looking for something to play with. Her unruly red hair was always in a tangle of curls._

_He lifted Svari; arms slid around her chest as he lifted her by her armpits, carrying her to the bed and tossed her in. Despite her age, she was dense for a toddler. She squealed in giggling delight at being thrown into the bed, hands raised and fingers wiggling for her brother's attention. "More!"_

_"Not now, Svari," Henrik ordered. "We need to be quiet and let everyone work. It is for me, after all! Come, let's read a book."_

_Henrik pulled '_ Of Fjori and Holgier' _off the bookshelf and crawled into bed with her. Leaning against the headboard, Svari curled up next to her big brother and rested her head on his chest as she sucked her thumb. He knew she didn't understand the story, but she loved to hear the rhythmic words._

_"In her 29th summer of life, Fjori, the huntress, met the warlord Holgier on the field of battle. None remember what they fought over, for their love to come was so great it overshadowed all rivalries or disputes. They fought to a standstill, as their followers looked on - till her sword broke his axe and his shield dulled her blade, and all could see that they were equals._

_As the Eagle finds its mates, so too did Fjori find hers in Holgeir, and a time of peace came to the clans of the forest. But as the summer's warmth gives way to winter's chill, so too would this peace pass…"_

_Henrik didn't get a chance to finish the story as Svari had fallen asleep on him. Since it was his job to watch her and he had nothing else to do, he too took a nap waiting for the early evening to arrive and the party with all his friends._

_A gentle shake on his shoulder woke him up, and he looked up to see his mother's dark brown eyes staring down at him, her red curls pinned up into braids and a bun, a warm smile on her face._

_"Don't you want to get ready, son? It's almost time."_

_Henrik quickly sat up and ran to his room to get changed and fix his dark hair. His mother had laid out a blue embroidered tunic. She always loved to see him wear blue as it brought out his eyes. Once he dressed, he ran downstairs and eagerly awaited the arrival of guests while keeping his sister out of the desserts. He pulled her off the chair she climbed and put her down._

_All his friends finally arrived bearing gifts. There were games to play and food to eat while all the children played outside. All the parents were left to mingle in the parlor._

_A girl walked outside in the courtyard out back and eyed Henrik, a boy he didn't know on her arm. Melie approached him and curtsied. "Happy Name Day, Henrik."_

_"Thanks, Melie," he replied, surprised to see her. She had refused to talk to him since that fateful day at the pond._

_"This is Hjor, my betrothed."_

_"Uhm, aren't you a little young to be getting married?"_

_"Well, not yet, stupid. We have been arranged and expected to be married when we turn eighteen. Isn't he handsome?"_

_Hjor was certainly handsome as Henrik tried not to stare. "Uhm, I guess so."_

_Melie walked off with Hjor to find food to eat as Henrik was left standing alone. He looked over to his left, feeling someone watching him and saw Faelian leaning against a pillar, looking quite tall and handsome, his golden eyes almost glowing in the torchlight staring at him with a smirk._

_The teen sauntered over gracefully to Henrik, the smirk never wavering. "Happy Name Day, Henrik."_

_"Th...thanks, Fae...Faelian," Henrik stammered, always nervous around the mer. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck in embarrassment, being unable to be as relaxed and smooth as the Altmer._

_Faelian gently grabbed Henrik's arm and pulled him back inside the house to a room that wasn't in use and dark. "I want to give my Name Day present early to you."_

_Henrik's stomach fluttered with nerves, more than usual and unsure why. Perhaps it was the first time he had been alone with the boy without their friends. He had a crush on the mer for quite a while now, touching himself at night with daydreams of them kissing._

_Faelian placed a gentle hand on the smaller boy and pushed him against a wall. Henrik couldn't see very well, but the Altmer's eyes glowed a golden hue that he found enthralling. "W...where's the gift?"_

_"I'm the gift, Henrik. I have watched you for some time staring at me when you thought I wasn't looking. I admit I find you attractive too and have wanted to kiss you for a while."_

_Henrik wanted to melt to the ground in happiness that the boy felt the same way as he. The heat spread from his face to his ears and made him feel flushed with pleasure before the mer even drew close. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Faelian. His only memories of one was an unwanted kiss from Melie._

_Faelian inched his face closer to Henrik's, eyes never wavering, so confident for someone so young. Henrik closed his eyes, licked his lips, feeling the mer's warm breath on his face as his stomach roiled in anticipation. Lips touched lips, and Henrik didn't know where to go from there, inexperienced with kissing. It wasn't as if there were books on the subject._

_The Altmer started to move his lips around and inserted his tongue. All Henrik could do was follow his lead, but found his hands moving around the mer's waist as he started to breathe faster, heavier. He didn't know what a good kiss was, but his kiss with Faelian was better than he could ever have imagined._

_As they were kissing, the room got brighter, and both of them heard a gasp. Quickly turning to the surprised sound, both boys' eyes widened to see Faelian's mother standing there, shock on her face._

_"How dare you, Henrik, kiss my son! You lecherous boy!"_

_"I...I...I…," was all Henrik could get out._

_"Don't blame Henrik, mother. It was my idea. I wanted to kiss him."_

_"You dare!" Faelian's mother rushed over and grabbed the boy by the pointed ear pulling him home. "Henrik, I won't tell your parents about this, but you are never to see my son again. I'm sending him back to the Summerset Isles with his father because clearly, I have failed as a parent. Altmers mixing with Nords...Nord boys no less! The nerve, Faelian!"_

_"Ow, Mama!"_

_Henrik slid his back down along the wall as he fell to the ground and wept. His first blissful kiss ruined by a parent, never to be able to kiss his friend again. He was mortified, sad, and no amount of partying would change things. No one seemed to notice he was gone as he wept alone on the floor._

_As promised, he never did see Faelian again._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_It was Last Seed, and Henrik was sixteen. He had gone from a scrawny child to a tall young man, already surpassing his father in height as the two sparred with swords in the courtyard, which was a rare treat. His father worked long hours and could be gone for long weeks at a time, sometimes months, owning a large shipping company in Solitude._

_"No, lift your sword higher. There you go. Knees should be loose, not locked in place...good!"_

_Henrik usually had a trainer to teach him physical fighting and weaponry, but he enjoyed these times with his father. Because he wasn't around as often, the boy was closer to his mother, but he always looked up to his father as most boys did._

_When they were done, his father tossed him a cloth to wipe the sweat off as they sat on the bench, removing their armor. "I have to head out to Solstheim in a couple of days…"_

_"Already? But you just got here, Papa."_

_His dad mussed Henrik's hair, delighted the boy missed him. "I know, son. I am sorry, but as I was saying before you interrupted me, how about we go hunting in the morning. Practice that new bow I brought you from Valenwood. Would you like that?"_

_"Yes, Papa! I would love that!"_

_"Good! I will wake you up early in the morning, and we will head out."_

_Mundus had not shown through the skies when Henrik was woken up by his father. The tall boy stretched and got up excitedly and quickly got dressed. Father and son then headed out to the Solitude Stables to get their horses._

_Henrik often went hunting with friends, but it was a special thing to do with his father. He wanted to show his father how good he had gotten at it, hoping he could do so with a new bow. The bow was intricately carved with a beautiful leaf pattern, and it was light and supple. Not the heavy type that most Nords liked to use. Henrik knew it would take some adjusting to get used to it._

_The two didn't say much on their ride to the woods where they were to hunt. Henrik didn't need to talk a lot to enjoy being with his father. It was enough that they were together._

_After riding for about an hour up through the mountains, they tied up their horses and made their way towards a fallen tree and sat down to wait. The area was usually teeming with prey, so Henrik would have plenty of opportunities to practice with his new bow._

_Henrik pulled out an arrow and nocked it on his bow as his father did the same, waiting quietly for an unsuspecting animal to walk by. It didn't take long before a young stag was grazing in the snowy grass. Henrik pulled back his arrow as his father guided him to the correct position. He held the arrow in place until he was sure of his mark, he let out his breath, a clouded plum burst from his mouth from the cold as he let loose his arrow._

_The arrow shot a bit too far to the left and missed the animal, scaring it away. Henrik cursed under his breath and looked at his father sheepishly, who looked at his son in calm understanding. "It's OK. The bow is new. Just take it slower next time," he whispered._

_Henrik nodded and nocked another arrow, waiting for the next animal to come along. There were plenty of rabbits and foxes, but he wanted to kill an elk. The young man wanted to impress his father. Henrik's father let the boy choose his quarry as he sat patiently._

_Eventually, another stag appeared as Henrik readied his bow once more. This time, the arrow made its mark and felled the elk but didn't kill it. Henrik knew precisely what to do as he removed his dagger from its sheath and quickly put the stag out of its misery so it wouldn't have to suffer._

_He looked at his father for approval, who nodded at his son with a small smile playing on his lips. That was enough for Henrik to feel proud of himself._

_It was late afternoon when they hauled the elk back to the stables, and his father hired a couple of men to bring the elk up to the house so it could be stripped of its pelt and cut up into parts._

_"Please take care of the horses, son, and I will see you back at home."_

_"OK, papa."_

_Instead of turning the horses over to the young stableboy, Henrik pulled the horses into their stalls himself and set about grooming them. Something was soothing about running a brush through the horse's mane, feeling its sleek and warm coat underhand, the smell that some found repulsive, he loved. When he was done with his horse, he gave it an apple then set to work on his father's horse._

_As Henrik was leaving for home, he could hear a strange electric sound buzzing from behind the stables. It was repetitive and made him curious as to what could possibly make such a sound._

_Following the sound, he eased his head around the corner behind the stalls to see a blonde young man, around Henrik's age, in farming clothes. He was sitting down with his back to the building, opening and closing his hands as sparks burst forth and disappeared._

_Henrik was curious and spied on him with great interest. He had always wanted to learn spell casting and sometimes practiced when his mother wasn't around. He had asked for training, but she refused. "Absolutely not! Nords and magic don't mix well," she would say. She made it sound like it was a normal thing, but he could see the distaste on her face. He never asked again and never showed her what he could do for fear of getting in trouble._

_"You can come out. I'm not gonna bite," said the blonde boy, not looking in Henrik's location, but knowing someone was there watching him._

_Henrik came up shyly to the young man, and when he turned his face in Henrik's direction, he recognized him as being their cleaning lady's son. He had seen him and his older brother around town, sometimes at his house, but they never talked before. His dark blonde hair was cropped, but the bangs were long as they kept falling in his face, hiding his dark brown eyes, the face filthy with grime._

_"Hey, I know you...Henrik, right?" he asked, not getting up from his spot against the stable walls._

_Henrik nodded and sat down next to the boy who was still flicking electricity magically off and on in his hand._

_"I'm Adrian, in case you didn't know which you probably don't since I'm just a stupid poor kid, and you're rich and all."_

_"I have seen you at the house. I'm sorry that I didn't know your name. What are you doing? The purple light looks like a pocket full of thunderstorms in your hand. It's beautiful."_

_Adrian looked at Henrik strangely with a quirk of his mouth forming a small smile at his analogy. "Yeah, I guess it does look like that. I never thought about it that way. I was just sittin' here bored, but avoiding chores, hiding from Ma. What are you doin' here?"_

_"I went hunting with my father, and I had to return the horses to the stables when I heard you out here. Can you teach me?"_

_The boy barked out a laugh. "Teach you? It's not like I'm a College of Winterhold professor."_

_"I'm not asking to be a master, just learn some new things." Henrik held his palm as a small burst of flame popped in his hand._

_"Huh, well, you do know somethin' after all. I thought you Nords didn't like magic."_

_Henrik sighed and leaned his head against the building. "We don't. My mother won't let me learn, but I really want to. I've learned virtually every other weapon, but magic is so beautiful and raw to me. I...I can give you some coin for it."_

_"Alright, Henrik. I will teach you. Meet me here tomorrow morning...early before Mundus is in the sky. I will teach you something. If you like it and I put up with you rich boy, I will continue to meet you. Bring me three Septim. Deal?"_

_Henrik gave Adrian a broad smile. "Deal!"_

_Weeks then months passed as Henrik and Adrian met more and more frequently. They went from student and teacher to friends then best friends. Henrik started to ignore his other friends who were growing up to be too shallow for him, and he began to lose interest in spending time with them._

_The two boys were briskly walking in the woods, laughing on their way to the pond for a swim on a warm summer day._

_"Race you!" yelled out Adrian, who took off before even giving Henrik a fair chance._

_"Hey, wait up, horker face!" Henrik yelled as he chased after his laughing friend._

_Adrian, of course, made it to the pond first, and he quickly removed his tunic, boots, and breeches, running into the water._

_As Henrik was running, breeching through the trees, he managed to trip on a fallen log and fell flat on his face, breaking his nose. He almost blacked out, seeing stars and sat up holding his bleeding nose._

_Henrik felt warmth spread through his face as the pain subsided, and his vision cleared. In front of him sat his friend, who was only in his wet smalls. His body fit from hard labor as drops of water glistened off his tan skin left Henrik breathless. Adrian wasn't nearly as beautiful as Faelian, but he made up for it in wit, charm, and talent...now in body._

_Henrik swallowed hard at the site, suddenly unable to look at his friend. It wasn't that Henrik had not thought about Adrian in such a way, he had, but seeing him for the first time, half-naked made it more real for him. He had just kept such thoughts to himself, afraid if he tried anything, he would lose his best friend._

_He thanked the gods his face was now filthy to hide his blushing. When his nose was all better, Adrian stood and offered his hand for Henrik to grab and be lifted off the ground. Adrian ran back into the water while Henrik undressed, grateful that blushing was the worst of his worries._

_Henrik dove in the water and came up, wiping the water and grime off of his face. Apparently, he had some other scratches and wounds that were buried underneath the dirt as Adrian came up with another glowing hand. He stood close to Henrik as he gently ran his hand slowly along his face, it was almost tender in a way, loving._

_Something came over Henrik, finding his lips suddenly pressed to a wide-eyed blonde boy. Henrik quickly pulled away, embarrassed. "I...I'm so sorry! I…," he stammered, unsure of what to say to his friend._

_The shock vanished from his friend's face and was replaced by his usual smirk. Adrian didn't look angry or shocked that Henrik kissed him. He reached out to Henrik's face with two hands and pulled him in for a kiss, much to Henrik's pleasure and relief, and in part disbelief._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Love escapes


	11. A Life of Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The memories continue to flow and Volk/Henrik has to make a choice between a life of obligation or a life of love. Both men have to finally come clean to their families after spending five years together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is NSFW content.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and comments are appreciated! Let me know what you think! They keep me trucking along in my stories, trying to improve upon them.

Memories faded in and out, most of them between Henrik and Adrian, since they had spent so much time together. Memories cascaded through his mind, visions of awkward touches, fumblings with clothes, the first time they made love. Then a new memory appeared as Henrik saw himself a grown man of twenty-one Winters.

_Henrik and Andrian were curled up in the old rickety bed in Adrian's bedroom. His brother and mother were working, leaving them alone for a while. Both of them still out of breath in a sexual high, sweat glistening off their foreheads as their bodies still shuddered._

_Henrik scooched his body up against the wooden wall that served as the bed's headboard and pulled Adrian into an embrace. The blonde man's head rested on Henrik's chest as he ran fingers through his dark chest hair. Henrik kissed his lover's head tenderly and placed his hand on top of Adrian's, grasping fingers._

_"I love you," whispered Adrian. "Do you love me?"_

_"You know I do," replied Henrik, a sleepy smile played on his face._

_"Say it…"_

_"I love you, Adrian."_

_Henrik could suddenly feel warm wetness on his chest, realizing that Adrian was trying to keep from crying. "What's wrong, Ad?" Henrik asked, sitting up with sudden concern._

_Adrian rolled over in the bed and mumbled nothing was the matter._

_"We talk about everything, and now you're going to be silent? Come on, we don't keep secrets from each other, love." Henrik ran soft fingertips along Adrian's muscular back, feeling goosebumps rise on his flesh._

_Adrian sighed and rolled back over, looking at Henrik with damp eyes. "You're right. I...it's something that has been bothering me for a while now. I mean, we are getting older...what's going to happen to us?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You don't see it? Have you not thought about it?"_

_Henrik was trying to be patient and understanding, but Adrian wasn't clear. "Ad, please tell me what's going on."_

_"I want to be with you forever…"_

_"We will. I love you," Henrik informed his lover confidently._

_"Stop and listen for a moment, Hen! I know we love each other. That is not in doubt. The problem is I'm poor, and you're rich. I mean, our parents don't even know how we feel about each other. It's still a secret."_

_"Is that what is bothering you? That we are secret?"_

_Adrian nodded. "Aye, in part. There is a reason for it. Our parents will never put up with it, surely you know this, especially your parents...probably. I don't know!"_

_Henrik rubbed a hand through his thick dark hair listening to what the young man was saying. "It doesn't matter what they think. You're right, we should stop keeping this a secret. I've been so lost with you, I haven't given it that much thought, just happy to be with you."_

_"You mean...are you going to tell your parents, Hen?" Andrian asked, surprise on his face._

_"That's exactly what I mean."_

_"If you do that, then I will tell my mother. Steffan already knows, and he's supportive."_

_Henrik's eyes grew wide. "Your brother knows? I'm glad he's supportive because I imagined him beating the shit out of me if he found out."_

_"Nah, he loves me and just wants me happy."_

_Henrik pulled Adrian's face to his and planted small and tender kisses along his jawline, where a blonde beard was growing in. "I want to be with you, and there is little to stop me from doing just that. I will tell my parents tonight...promise, OK?"_

_"By the Gods, you're amazing! I knew there was a reason I loved you."_

_It was dusk when Henrik came home. He decided to have a talk with parents after dinner, not wanting to disrupt family mealtime. It was a good time as any as his father had been home for the past week with no plans to head back out for two more. His stomach lurched with nerves, knowing his parents would be furious with him, but they couldn't tell him who to love. They had no control over his heart._

_"Henrik, is that you, dear?" his mother called out._

_Henrik followed his mother's voice into the parlor, where she was stitching some embroidery by the fire, his sister on the floor reading a book while his father was reading as well. When he walked in, his parents put down what they were doing and shooed away Svari._

_Once his sister left, giving her big brother a hug on the way out, his mother asked him to sit down._

_"We need to have a talk, dear," his mother informed him._

_Henrik's already nervous stomach roiled in fear, wondering how they finally figured it out. He had been careful. "I can expl…"_

_"Your father and I have some good news for you," she interrupted._

_His heart settled down with his mother's words, breathing a little easier. "Oh, what news is that?"_

_While your father was working in Windhelm, he has found a new business partner, since his other one passed away recently. They reached an agreement and well…" Henrik's mother had a broad smile on her face, clearly excited with the news._

_Henrik smiled at his mother's delight, then looked over at his father, who too was smiling watching his wife. "They have a beautiful daughter! They have agreed that you and she are to be wed! Isn't that exciting! We have finally found a good girl for you. Your father and I have been looking and searching, but none of them met our standards until recently. Her name is Thalwin, and your father said she is quite the beauty!"_

_He could feel his heart sink at the news as his smile wavered—_ To be married? No, it can't be. _Everything changed at that moment. All his dreams of being with Adrian flew out the window. If he told his parents about him and what he wanted, he knew they would be furious as it would affect his father's business. Henrik wanted to weep, but he had to hold it together._

_With the best smile he could muster, he looked at his parents. "That is good news, indeed. Thank you for arranging such a wonderful woman for me. I will not disappoint you."_

_His parents beamed at his response. "We are happy, son. Your mother and I both worried you would resist this, that you were...well it doesn't matter, we can clearly see we were mistaken. Go on and clean up to get ready for dinner."_

_"Yes, Papa."_

_Henrik left the room as calmly as he could with wobbly and numb legs, not understanding how he could walk at all. His whole world crumbled around him._ What will happen to Adrian? I can't...I can't marry someone else!

_Once he was out of eyesight from his parents, he ran to his room and angrily wept at his situation. There would be no way he could be happily married to a woman. She wouldn't be happy with him either. Both would live in a miserable marriage. Henrik knew he couldn't keep crying, for it would show on his face when he came down for dinner._

_Henrik washed his face and changed his clothes, then headed down to eat._

_The next day, he met Adrian in their usual spot behind the stables. It was where Adrian worked part of the time, the other part was spent in training with the blacksmith. Adrian wanted to have a respectful job if Henrik, and he were to be together, he explained to his lover once._

_The look on Adrian's face when he saw Henrik was clear. It was full of dread knowing things didn't go well for Henrik. "What happened?" he asked._

_Henrik fell to the ground, leaning against the building, putting his face in his hands, and groaned in frustration._

_He could hear Adrian sighing loudly. "That good, huh?"_

_Henrik shook his head. "I...I didn't tell them," he mumbled._

_"Why?" Adrian sounded a lot calmer than he should have. "You promised."_

_"I know, I promised! But...but they...I didn't get a chance. They have arranged a marriage for me! It's a business deal... don't you see! They won't care. I have to do this or...or they will disown me! What's even worse is I...I have to leave here. I will be shipped off to live in Windhelm to that cold and desolate place!"_

_Adrian sat next to his Nord lover and didn't say a word. The silence was killing Henrik as he sat quietly, trying not to weep, hoping Adrian would have some words of wisdom or ideas on how to get out of this arrangement, but he had nothing._

_Henrik coughed to stop the choking in the back of his throat, then stood up. "I gotta go and pack. They are shipping me out in three days."_

_"Wait, what?! That soon?"_

_Yes, that soon. My parents want me married before my twenty-second Name Day."_

_Henrik wanted to walk off, wanted to make love, wanted to run, wanted to kiss—his mind was full of confusion and torment. They had been together for nearly five years and giving up Adrian, the man he loved would be no easy thing. No, it would be impossible._

_He felt Adrian lift his head and pull him into an embrace, weeping into his neck. Henrik wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly, his own lip quivering. "Please, Hen...don't leave me. I love you."_

_"I am not sure I have a choice, Adrian."_

_"We always have a choice," he said, angrily into Henrik's neck._

_Adrian was right. There was one choice, a choice that wasn't easy for him to make. If he wanted to be with Adrian, Henrik would have to give up everything. Give up his wealth and his family. It wasn't the wealth as much as it was his family. There was no hate or animosity towards his parents. They had always been kind to him, and he loved them. He didn't want to cause them undue pain. Henrik felt selfish with that choice, but he had to choose between a life of resenting his wife and how his life turned out, or he could live one of happiness with someone he loved, but it would be without his family._

_They were still holding each other when Henrik made the decision. "Pack up what you can, bring all your coin you have saved. Meet me on the docks in three days before dawn. We will go on the ship to Windhelm, but we will get off in Dawnstar and make our own lives together._

_Adrian pulled away and looked at Henrik in shock, grasping him by the shoulders. "Are...are you sure? Don't do this unless you are sure. I don't want to lose you, but I know that this decision comes at a cost, Hen."_

_"I have never been more sure. Please tell your mother so she doesn't worry."_

_"I have already told her about you and me. She's not pleased, but she also wants me to be happy."_

_Henrik pulled Adrian into a heated kiss then pushed him away. "I need to go. I need to go secretly purchase you a boarding pass to Dawnstar. Pack and be ready. I will meet you tomorrow for one last...fun time in the pond, then we will ship out together for a new life. We will figure out, then where we want to live."_

_"Gods, I love you, Hen."_

_"I love you too."_

_Henrik kissed Adrian once more and ran off._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Mundus had not risen yet, and he could see the blonde Imperial walking under the dim light of the lanterns towards the ship where Henrik was waiting for him. He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his lover, a part of him worried that he wouldn't show, not understanding why he felt Adrian would change his mind perhaps because the change in their lives was a big one._

_They smiled at each other, hiding their excitement until they were in private, unsure how the crew of the ship would take two male lovers._

_"Ready?" Henrik asked. He was happy for his new future but, at the same time, regretful what he was doing to his family._

_"As ready as I'll ever be."_

_The two boarded the ship and walked below deck to where they would be staying for the next few days until they reached Dawnstar. Adrian whistled at their room, a room Henrik's father purchased for the trip to Windhelm. It was small but comfortable with a plush bed, patterned blankets, a small shelf with books, a place to eat meals, and private privy._

_"Oh, this is going to be fun," Adrian exclaimed._

_They both fell into a comfortable bed and laughed, holding each other's hand and looked at each other with broad smiles on their faces._

_Henrik rolled over on his stomach and started kissing Adrian, their tongues reaching for each other, hands began to roam their bodies. It was early in the morning, but there was nothing to do as they waited to ship off._

_Both of them stood and quickly removed their clothes and jumped back into the bed and resumed their kissing, mouths roaming all over each other's faces and necks._

_"Gods, I want you and to be in you, make love to you," Henrik whispered heatedly in Adrian's ear._

_He could feel Adrian melt into him with his words, who then laid down on his back, a smirk played on his lips in anticipation of feeling Henrik inside of him. Henrik watched Adrian watching him as he quickly put some oil on the tip of his hardness and pressed some into Adrian's tightness before inserting himself with a hiss of pleasure—_ Was that me or was that Adrian? 

_Henrik rolled his hips back and forth in Adrian, watching his lover's eyes never leave his face until he hit the spot in him that made Adrian close his eyes and moan. "Right there…" he groaned quietly._

_Henrik focused on the spot Adrian wanted as he felt the heat build in him, heart rate racing. Adrian didn't have to be told as he grabbed himself, and Henrik watched him as his hand slid up and down his hardness._

_Suddenly Henrik pulled out to Andrian's surprise. "Turn around," he ordered._

_Adrian did as he was told as Henrik pushed the man's chest down to the bed and lifted his hips. He inserted himself, trusting once more as he leaned on top of Adrian to grasp his hardness underneath. He rolled his hips in rhythm to the movements of his hand, feeling Adrian pulse, loving the feel of him, inside and out._

_Henrik knew Adrian was close with his increased moans. He moved his hand faster as he thrust harder into his lover. Henrik felt the familiar warm wetness dripping down his fingers, hearing Adrian moan as he too exploded._

_They both fell flat onto the bed with Henrik still on top as they tried to catch their breath. Henrik pressed gentle kisses to Adrian's back, then both got under the covers. Since it was still dark, both of them fell asleep for a nap._

_Henrik woke up to the swaying of the ship and a light knock at his door. He got up and threw his tunic over his head to answer it. Before him was a boy of no more than thirteen or fourteen with a tray of food and tea for one._

_He looked back at Adrian, sprawled out on the bed naked, still sleeping, debating on letting the boy in. Shrugging, he moved aside as the boy came in and set breakfast down on the table, trying to ignore the naked sleeping man in the bed._

_"From now on, please bring enough food for two. He's...my guest."_

_"Aye, sir."_

_"If you do a good job and keep this...quiet, I will pay you extra at the end of the trip."_

_"Aye, thank you, sir."_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_It was the second night, and the two men were sleeping in bed, soon waking up to the boat rocking back and forth being slammed by large waves. Henrik and Adrian looked at each other with concern as they quickly got dressed with difficulty, trying not to fall, and put on warm clothing in case they had to make it outside._

_The storm was raging as the boat heeled to port and starboard, making Henrik's stomach reel and tried to keep the contents of his stomach where it belonged. Looking at Adrian, he was starting to look green as well. The thunder felt like it was right overhead as the waves crashed onto the ship, flooding into the compartments below._

_Their feet were soaked from the water, and he couldn't get high enough. If the storm kept up, the ship was going to sink. The women and children that were on board in steerage were crying or whimpering as their men held them for reassurance, though their eyes conveyed their genuine fright._

_Adrian held Henrik tightly about the waist, his brown eyes enlarged with worry, his blonde hair dripping with salt water every time a wave hit, not caring who saw it. Henrik placed a tender and loving arm around the man to let him know he was not going to leave his side, no matter what. Fear coursed through him, making his stomach roil even more on top of being seasick. He wasn't the only one as he could hear retching in places._

_The boat was thrashing so much, he wasn't able to tell that the ship was slowing down, but he could feel the slow leaning on the port side as it started listing. There was no choice now, they were going to have to jump ship before they got stuck below in the hold and drowned. Henrik pulled Adrian up to stand, they both helped the women and children to get out of the hold and make their way up on deck._

_Henrik held a baby while the mother climbed up the ladder, then he climbed with one hand and handed her the child when he reached the top._

_Once on deck, the storm was raging, and waves crashed, washing some people right off the boat. There was nothing he could do and hoped they could swim, sadly knowing if any child went in, they would die, if not from drowning, then from the ice-cold water._

_The ship started to capsize as Henrik watched sailors and passengers alike jump into the water. There was only one lifeboat that was reserved for women and children as the Captain helped them aboard. Henrik was relieved that they had a chance to survive, despite being poor._

_Adrian and Henrik held on to each other as the ship started to capsize. They soon would have no choice but to jump._

_"Jump! If you don't jump, the boat will drag ya down with ‘er into the water's depths!" yelled a sailor._

_Both men looked at each other, held hands, and made the plunge into the frigid depths below._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Separation and anxiety.
> 
> I have started a new story and would love to know what you think. It's an enemies-friends-lovers story of Kaidan and a Thalmor Justiciar.
> 
> [Breaking Orenwen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832874)


	12. Sink or Swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik's memories come to a traumatic conclusion. Farkas does what he can to help Henrik in his grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think <3

Farkas observed Volk for a good hour with growing concern, wondering what he was going through and how long he would have to go through it. He continued to hold Volk’s hand as fingers reflexively gripped and twitched. Volk's face was blank for most of it, as if in a deep sleep, but there were periods where a tear would slip, or a twitch of a smile played on his face. Currently, Volk’s brows were furrowed as if deeply troubled, eyes racing back and forth behind closed lids, breathing picked up as if stuck in a nightmare. Farkas kissed the top of his hand as Henrik continued to be flooded with memories.

_The frigid waters shocked his body, like being stabbed by a thousand needles. As a Nord, he could take the cold waters longer than most before hypothermia set in. He knew Adrian wouldn’t be as lucky. Then the moment hit as Henrik realized Adrian was no longer holding his hand. Soon panic set in. He breached the surface of the turbulent water in search of him, gulping air._

_“Adrian!” he yelled out, spitting out saltwater that assaulted his mouth as he did so._

_“Henrik!” he could hear from a distance, unsure how far away he was. Henrik swam in circles and could finally see a blonde head under the moonlight waving._

_Relief washed over Henrik like the stormy waves as he started to swim towards Adrian. All those years of swimming in the pond helped, but he suddenly stopped in horror as he watched a massive wave crest over his lover and crash down upon him sending him down to the icy depths below._

_“Adrian! NO!” Henrik swam as fast as he could, but it was difficult to do in the vast and forceful waves that insisted on trying to pull him under or push him away._

_When the water settled for a moment, he could not see Adrian anywhere. Finally, reaching to where he saw Adrian last, he scrambled in the water, looking around to find him. “Adrian!” he called out again, only greeted with thunder and crashing waves. Henrik dove underneath the water to see if he could find him, but there was nothing of his lover. He was nowhere to be found._

_Suddenly, Henrik saw a body with blonde hair floating on the surface in the distance—_ Adrian _—and started swimming towards him as he watched his lover begin to sink. He panicked before another massive wave hit Henrik and pushed him further away from his lover. Henrik tried again, the cold water starting to penetrate his flesh, shivering. If he was getting cold, he knew Adrian was worse off. He tried to swim again, only to be kept getting pushed back by wave after wave. Eventually, he could no longer see Adrian as he started to weep and panic—_ No, Gods, please. 

_The biggest wave yet crashed into Henrik, forcing him underwater, his body thrashed and spun as he struggled to the surface unsure which direction the surface was, leaving him disoriented. Lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and he forced his way up. Gasping for blessed breath, Henrik looked around again and called out for Adrian._

_Waves crashed once more as his body was slammed against a large rock protruding out of the water, knocking him out as his head slammed against it sending him into total blackness._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Henrik laid on the rocky beach as calm and cold water lapped at his body. Mundus was shining above as he covered his face from the bright glare. His head was aching, feeling like it had been split open. He ran a gentle hand on a large lump as it came away with blood._

_He struggled to sit up as vertigo set in, making him dizzy, but he was freezing and had to get out of the water. Too weak to cast any spells, he shivered as he pulled himself into some thick grass. Knees drawn up, chilled to the bone, he wept in his hands for his loss, his lover, his best friend, his future husband. Henrik couldn’t imagine a life without Adrian. He gave up everything for him only to have the gods snatch him away, wondering if he was being punished for his choice._

_Henrik never had in his life experienced such suffering as with the loss of Adrian. He gasped for breath as he sobbed, unable to stop, unable to move, unsure if he could go on. Part of him wishing he had died too. The pain was unbearable._

_The shivering became uncontrollable, and the instinct of survival kicked in as he started to gather wood, branches, and leaves to start a fire. He was weak and didn’t have much Magicka, but he managed to sputter some sparks to life that finally set the wood aflame._

_He removed his clothes, keeping his breeches on, and sat close to the fire, trying to get warm and dry his tunic and cloak. Henrik curled up in a ball as he tried to stop shivering and wept once more at his loss. As he cried, he came to the decision to make his way back to Solitude to tell Adrian’s mother what happened and finally come clean to his parents. One thing was certain, he was never going to marry no matter what his parents said. If they wanted to disown him, then so be it. After that, he couldn’t think beyond that, not without Andrian._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Farkas watched Henrik with worry. His tears were spilling out of his eyes now, and he wondered if he had reached the part where he lost Adrian. Farkas looked at Danica, who too looked concerned, and tired. “Should we stop?”

Danica shook her head. “He needs to finish. Disrupting things before he’s done could cause irreparable damage. He has to come out of this on his own.”

_It was dark out when Henrik suddenly woke up to a noise. It was a simple snap of a twig and could have been anything, but it put him on high-alert. He instinctively reached for his sword, quickly realizing he had no weapons as they went down with the ship, along with all his money. He was ill-equipped and unprepared to defend himself, let alone make it home._

_Henrik grabbed a burning log that wasn’t aflame on one end to use as a weapon staying on guard, listening to any sounds. Despite being on alert, he was in no way prepared for what came at him—no one could. The creature came barreling down at a speed Henrick had never seen. He knew what it was as soon as he saw the half-man, half-wolf—_ werewolf _._

_Henrik readied himself as the beast lunged at him, knocking him back as the log slipped out of his grasp. They rolled on the ground as Henrik tried to fight off the creature as it bit and clawed at his flesh. The beast was too strong for him, and Henrik was quick to give up having no reason to live without Adrian._

_Henrik laid on his back, closed his eyes, bleeding and wishing for a quick death as the werewolf readied its claws to eviscerate the man, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes to see a sword thrust through the werewolf’s heart, its blood spilling all over Henrik and watched it collapse to the ground dead._

_He looked to see who his hero was to find several men and a few women who looked too much like bandits. All of them were staring at him with various emotions on their faces from anger, hatred, sympathy to disgust. Henrik did not rush to get up and thank them. He had wanted to die, and even if he wanted to be saved, he had a feeling his troubles were far from over._

_“What? Not one 'thank you?'” one of the men scoffed. He was older with battle scars all over his face and body. His mohawk hung limply to the side of his head. His mismatched leather armor reeked of piss and body odor._

_Henrik remained silent, not trusting himself to speak as he held his bleeding wounds the best he could and eyeing the group warily._

_The man shrugged. “Pick him up and bind him. He comes with us.”_

_Henrik started to resist as he was grabbed only to be knocked out from behind as blackness took him once more._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Henrik woke up sometime later. It could have been hours, or it could have been days, he had no way of knowing. As his vision cleared, he saw he was in some sort of prison. The cell was barely big enough to hold him, and the only thing provided was a pile of filthy hay and an old bucket._

_He weakly stood on wobbly legs and tentatively felt his head, worried about all the damage it had recently received. He cast a glowing hand on it and could feel the pain and dizziness ease. Then he placed healing hands on his wounds._

_Standing, he looked around to get his bearings and could see several cells identical to his with what appeared to be other werewolves. Some were growling and ever-watchful, while others seemed to be dead. The stench of decay assaulted his nose, and he knew some were definitely not alive, and not for some time._

_“‘Bout time ya woke up, monster,” said some woman in the far corner watching him, having heard him wake up._

_“I’m not one of them,” he replied, nodding his head towards the other cells._

_“Yer bitten, yer one of ‘em.”_

_“I look quite human to me. Why have you taken me and locked me up?”_

_“Ya don’t get to ask questions around ‘ere, beast.”_

_Henrik didn’t understand why those bandits took him and called him a monster. He had no coin or anything of value since the ship sunk, so it wasn’t thievery. As his mind cleared, he remembered being attacked by that werewolf and then remembered stories about the beasts, pets of Hircine. He had read that if they didn’t kill their victims and consume them, that they too would become werebeasts._

_It wasn’t enough that he lost his lover, but now was some monster and was captured by bandits, who knew what they were going to do with him. He was probably going to change soon into the very thing that attacked him and tried to kill him._

_Henrik fell to the cell floor and wept in his hands._

_“Quit yer sniveling, beast. What a baby.”_

_He ignored the woman as he continued to silently weep. He wanted to die, and he soon realized he could be in a situation much worse than death._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Henrik woke up once more, having lost more time. He knew he must have been there for a while as his stomach growled and knotted in pain with hunger, his mouth parched with the need for water. Without the basic necessities, it had left him dazed. His body felt hot and wondered if he was getting a fever._

_“It’s almost time,” he could hear a man speaking._

_“Good. Once he changes, let Krev know, and he will probably want to begin.”_

_Opening his eyes, not realizing he had fallen asleep once more, he felt hands lift him off the ground and almost carry him to another room. His head lolled to the side as he tried to get his bearings, but he was too weak and burning with fever._

_He felt his body being placed on some sort of table as they strapped down his arms and legs. Henrik had a sudden surge of strength as panic gave him a burst of energy, knowing something terrible was going to happen._

_“Let me go, dammit!” he yelled out, voice raw and hoarse._

_Henrik could hear laughter all around him as a man walked around his prone body, knife in hand. He could see a woman bringing some sort of metal tools over to a table, knowing they were going to be used on him._

_“Why are you doing this!”_

_“You are evil and deserve everything we do to you. Your kind must be punished before you die. We thought you would have changed by now, so I’m going to help push that along.”_

_“It wasn’t my fault!”_

_“Your weakness makes you at fault. You gave up the fight...we watched you. We are the Silver Hand, and you will be punished.”_

_Henrik could feel the blade cut into him as he tried not to scream. The pain that was inflicted on his body had become intolerable, not knowing how long they were torturing him. He soon heard something in his mind, snarling at him, nipping._ “Let me out! Feed! I must kill! Feed!”

_He had no strength left to resist whatever was in his mind. Flashes of his life passed before him, his first kiss, best friends, Adrian...always Adrian. Tears spilled out of his eyes as he screamed in pain, soon turning to a roar, not just from the torture, but as he changed into the monster the Silver Hand knew him to be._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Farkas cringed, hearing Volk scream. It was a sound he was familiar with, a sound people make when they are in physical pain. Shock then crossed his face as Volk suddenly bolted upright as his scream died down and looked as if he had been sleeping, waking up from a nightmare. Volk looked confused as to his whereabouts.

He looked around, dazed, and grabbed his stomach as if he had recently been stabbed to find that he was not wounded. He was confused, looking at Farkas’ worried face— _Farkas_. Then everything soon became apparent, remembering where he was. Remembering his loss— _my Adrian_. Henrik laid back down and curled up, covering his face in his hands and just wept. 

Farkas laid a calming hand on Volk’s back, but the man flinched away from him. It broke his heart to see Volk in such a state. He knew the man would be in pain and expected Volk to resist him, so he didn’t take it personally. Farkas understood it would feel like Volk lost Adrian all over again.

“Volk…”

“Leave me alone!” The anguish, fear, anger, his loss it all culminated as his memories flooded his mind at once.

“He needs time,” Danica informed Farkas. “Here, take these herbs. Mix them in some hot water and honey three times a day. It will help keep him somewhat calm as he processes all his memories and grieves over his loss.”

Farkas took the bag of herbs, nodding in understanding.

Danica laid a gentle hand on Farkas’ shoulder, knowing this was going to hurt him as well. The two men were clearly close. “It’s going to take time. He may resist you, but he’s going to need you. Don’t give up on him.” Danica had been around enough grief to understand how it worked, even though everyone grieved differently.

“I won’t.”

Farkas stood by Volk to lift him up and take him back to Jorrvaskr. The man was fighting him but soon gave up with Farkas’ persistence. They were walking out of the temple, Farkas’ arm around Volk to help him walk in his distress, but stopped. He pulled Volk’s cloak about the man and placed his hood over his head. He knew Volk wouldn’t want people to stare at him in his state.

As they entered Jorrvaskr, the Companions were watching Farkas haul Volk downstairs, wondering what was going on and why he was weeping so much. 

“Back to work! Mind your business, whelps!” Farkas growled out, though they weren’t all whelps who were staring.

Farkas gently laid Volk on his bed instead of the communal room for the whelps so he could have some privacy, then left to make the distraught man some tea, making sure to put extra honey in it for him.

When he returned, Volk had stopped weeping, but was staring off into nothing, the only indication of life was the spasmodic gasp for air.

“Here, drink this.”

“Leave me alone,” Volk whispered.

“Not gonna happen. I will give you space, but you need to drink this, and you need someone right now. The last thing you need is to be left alone. Come on...drink. It will help.”

Volk finally complied as he chugged the vile liquid and laid back down, waiting for it to take effect. He could feel Farkas run a gentle hand along his back in order to soothe, this time without shrugging him off. 

Farkas watched the tea take effect as Volk’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. Soon the man was snoring lightly. Farkas stood up and gently removed Volk’s boots and sat down next to him, placing his legs in his lap, watching his friend sleep, unsure if he should call him lover any longer. The thought saddened him, but he understood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been two days since Volk had his memories restored. The room was dark when he woke up and laid there, not knowing what time it was, feeling disoriented. His mind had calmed down a bit after being flooded with all his recollections. It had been overwhelming on top of all the grief, then remembering his torture from the Silver Hand. He knew he would be in pain, but not the extent of it. 

Henrik tried to sit up, but his head felt like it was split open. He took a healing hand to his head with a shaking hand to get rid of the pain as a tear slid down his face. He felt stupid for getting upset over something as small as healing, but it was something he and Adrian studied extensively. It was their thing. It was that healing hand that pushed Henrik to kiss Adrian the very first time.

Not feeling like getting dressed, he wrapped Farkas’ blanket around him and headed upstairs to get something to eat. He was famished and couldn’t remember the last time he ate. His growling stomach indicated it had been awhile. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs and entered the dining hall, it must have been dinner as everyone was sitting around the fire eating, no light pouring in from the windows. He knew he probably looked like shit, but he didn’t care. 

Farkas looked at him in surprise as he punched his brother in the arm to move down in the next seat so Volk could sit next to him. “How are you feelin’, Volk?” he asked as soon as the man sat down. Volk’s eyes were swollen with dark circles, his beard was growing out, and his hair was sticking up everywhere; he looked like shit.

“It’s Henrik,” was all he said. His voice sounded unfamiliar to his ears in its hoarseness.

“Oh, OK...Henrick. You still didn’t answer my question.”

Henrik kept his eyes on the food, refusing to look at anyone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, he just didn’t want anyone asking questions as Farkas was. If one more question was asked, the delicate wall he built would come crashing down once more.

“Fine…”

“Hen…”

“Please stop asking me questions! I...I’m sorry. I...just…” His lip quivered— _Dammit!_

“It’s fine...OK.”

Henrik shoved food in his mouth before he burst, grateful everyone at the table went back to talking, ignoring him.

Farkas stayed silent, eyeing his friend, worried about his well-being. Since Henrik was up, Farkas went to go get the man his tea before he started diving into the mead. Alcohol would be the last thing Henrik needed. 

He mumbled his thanks and sipped the hot brew, cringing at the horrible taste even with the honey, but knew it would make him feel better, so he made sure he drank all of it.

Once he was done eating, he stood up but stopped behind Farkas and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder then left. It was an acknowledgment and appreciation for Farkas being there for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk.

“Excuse me,” Farkas said as he stood up to follow Henrik.

Farkas found the man in his room cleaning up the mess and gathering his personal belongings. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’ve usurped your room long enough. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, Vo...Henrik. You’re stayin’ right here.”

Henrik finally managed to be able to look at Farkas in the eyes. “I don’t know...I need time, Farkas.”

“I know you do. I can sleep on the floor, or you can sleep on the floor. I don’t care, but you need a friend, and I’m gonna be that person. Don’t you worry about me.”

Henrik sat on Farkas’ bed and rubbed his face in his hands. Between the tea and the food, he was feeling a little better. Farkas sat tentatively next to him, uncertain if Henrik would push him away. 

“Look, I can only imagine how hard this is for you. By Ysmir, if I lost my brother, I would be an absolute wreck. I just want you to know I’m here if you wanna talk. Just...try not to bottle this all up is all I ask.”

He looked at Farkas out of the corner of his eye and nodded.

The two men sat in silence for a while, unsure of what to say when Henrik rested his head on Farkas’ shoulder. Farkas took that as a sign and put a tender arm around the grieving man. 

“His name was Adrian Maccius, and we were together for five years…” Henrik finally said, deciding to tell Farkas his story. The talk went on until the late evening hours with periods of crying and laughing, until Henrik was exhausted. They both curled up into each other and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Henrik faces family


	13. Solitude of Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik struggles with guilt being with Farkas after losing Adrian. He then goes home to Solitude to let his parents know he is alive, and to face Andrian's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Would love to hear from you <3

It felt like early morning to Henrik when he awoke, though it was hard to tell without windows in the room. He looked at Farkas still sleeping, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. It felt like he was betraying Adrian somehow. Henrik knew it was complicated as he had grown quite fond of the large Nord before all his memories were restored. Those feelings didn’t just vanish with memories of his dead lover, but the guilt persisted. When he and Farkas talked about having good memories together to help get over grief, not once did either of them think about the possibility of guilt. He knew Andrian was dead, but it felt so recent to him, and it was as it only happened a couple of months ago. 

He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawning. Despite the guilt, he was grateful Farkas was there for him, insistent he stay by his side. Henrik didn’t know what he would have done had he been alone, remembering thoughts of suicide the day Adrian died. He was also appreciative that he was able to tell Farkas his story, who showed only empathy and support.

Dread hit with thoughts of returning home. _I have to tell Adrian’s mother what happened precisely. I need to tell my own family I’m not dead, then I have to come clean and let them know about Adrian and me._ It was going to be a tough situation for all. 

Henrik felt a gentle hand on his back, knowing Farkas had woken up. “Hey, you OK?” he heard the man ask.

“Yeah, as well as can be, I guess.”

“Can I get you some tea?”

“It’s fine. If I need some, I can get it myself. You’ve...you’ve been a good friend.” Henrik cringed at the ‘friend’ word, unsure what to call Farkas now, uncertain of what they were, if anything.

Henrik didn’t see Farkas cringe either, but the big Nord understood. He knew their relationship was still in its early stages and that it might not go any further. At least it all happened before they got in too deep—before their relationship got too strong.  Kodlak’s words reverberated around in his head, unasked for and unwanted. 

It was as good a time as any to tell Farkas he was going back home for a while. “Farkas, I need to tell my family I’m alive and tell Adrian’s mother what happened exactly. She already knows he’s gone, but I don’t know...maybe I shouldn’t bring up the pain again for her. But my family needs to know I’m not dead.”

Farkas sat up in bed, leaning on an elbow, still looking at Henrik’s back. “I think that’s a good idea. Do you think you are ready to be home and face them while still grieving, though?”

“Yes, I have to. I may be grieving, but so is my family. They need to know I’m not dead.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Henrik turned around to face the concerned man leaning in bed, appreciation in his eyes. “You would do that?”

“Of course, I would,” he replied as he traced delicate circles along Henrik’s bare back.

“To not be alone for this would be...I don’t know; it will help, I think. Thank you, Farkas.”

Farkas grabbed his hand, tenderly rubbing a thumb over it. “I want to be there for you.”

Henrik gently pulled his hand away and got up and stretched, which didn’t slip Farkas’ notice. He asked Farkas if he needed anything as he headed up to make his tea. When Farkas said no, he left the room only to be called over by Kodlak, who was always up early in the morning.

He didn’t want to talk to the old man, running excuses through his head, but came up empty and sat down with an exaggerated sigh.

Kodlak didn’t take it personally as he chuckled at the young man. “I know, no one ever wants to talk to the old Harbinger unless it suits them. I seem to make a habit of telling others what they don’t want to hear.”

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to see how you were doing and noted you are still with Farkas.”

“I don’t know what we are, to be honest...just please...please don’t say you ‘told us so.’”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not here to prove myself right or wrong. My only concern is the well-being of my family, and you are now part of this family.”

Henrik nodded, not knowing what to say or what the Harbinger wanted exactly. The old man usually made a lot of verbal twists and turns before he got to the point.

“How are you doing, son, honestly?” Kodlak asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels hard to even breathe, other times I think I can get through this. You know I lost someone close to me...we were together a long time, and I gave up everything for him only to lose him.”

“Grief is no easy thing to get over, some never do.”

“If it's OK with you, I would like to go back to Solitude. I have to see my family...his mother…”

“I am not the leader, Volk…”

“It’s Henrik.”

“Apologies, Henrik. I’m not a leader. You do not need to ask my permission. You don’t even have to stay with the Companions if you wish to return home.”

“Thanks. It’s something to think about, but...I do like it here, and I honestly don’t want to return home...too many memories there.”

“I understand. Well, I won’t keep you, but I do have one thing to say before you go. Please do not hurt Farkas unnecessarily. Do not stay with him because you feel obligated to or out of some sense of guilt. He may be a tough warrior, but he is kind and sensitive.”

“I would never intentionally hurt anyone. Farkas' sensitivity is not unlike my own...it is why I like him so much. Thank you, Harbinger.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took four days on horseback to get to Solitude. Henrik could see the large city built into the cliffside from a distance, the long bridge over the ocean waters that led to the Blue Palace. The Palace always looked like it was teetering on top of a sliver of the cliff that could barely hold itself up. Ships were slowly coming and going across the water like swans on a lake, lazily paddling in graceful patterns.

He could feel a pull in his stomach, unsure if it was from fear, nervousness, dread— _all of the above?_ The trip had been relatively quiet and calm, Farkas and he talked only a little, though he appreciated the big Nord with him. It helped to ease his discomfort.

The two men walked their horses to the stable and rented space for the steeds only for a day, unsure how long they were going to be there. If they needed to stay longer, they would come back.

Grabbing their packs, they walked up the long hilly road into Solitude. It had been a while since Farkas had been there, wondering if he ever saw Henrik around, then shut the idea down since the city was large. Walking through the gates, Farkas forgot how lovely it was with quaint old buildings, potted plants everywhere, tops of buildings decorated in rows of colorful flags as if in perpetual celebration.

It was mid-day, and Solitude was crowded with people walking to and fro to the shops, to eat at the tavern, browsing wares at the market. Solitude was also home to the largest Legion army in Skyrim, and the two men could hear them training above near Castle Dour. 

Henrik suddenly stopped, uncertain as to what to do. He didn’t know if he should see Adrian’s mother first or his parents.

Farkas put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “You OK, Hen?”

Henrik looked at the larger man, eyes glistening, trying not to get upset. “I appreciate you being here, but...but please don’t call me that. Only he called me that. It...it hurts to hear.”

Farkas was trying hard with Henrik, not knowing all his triggers. It was difficult for him too, and he was starting to not only feel like he was failing the man but that he was becoming an outsider. “Right...sorry.”

“I’m so sorry...I’m hurting you. I...it’s not my intention.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Farkas brushed off, but he couldn’t hide the feeling that he was losing Henrik despite being by his side.

“You keep saying that, wondering why I wouldn’t worry about you. Anyway, I stopped because I was debating on who to see first. I thought maybe I should just see Andrian’s mother first since we will probably spend the majority of the time with my family.

Farkas followed Henrik around to the side of the apothecary building and up a flight of steps to an apartment. Knocking on the door, it took so long for someone to answer, Henrik wondered if Adrian’s mother was even home. Finally, the door opened to a small blonde woman with graying hair and kind brown eyes— _Adrian’s eyes_. The fact that Adrian looked so much like his mother was painful. Her eyes were red and swollen; clearly, she had been crying as she looked at the man before her in shock.

“H...Henrik?”

“Hello, Ms. Maccius.”

“I..I...I thought you were...dead.”

“I thought I was too,” he said, feeling his words were utterly inadequate. “I had to come and see you, let you know what happened.”

“I know what happened, Henrik. We received news of the ship sinking.” Her face turned to one of anger. “Why? Why are you alive, and my boy is not? You should have protected him! Why?! Why didn’t you protect him?!” she yelled, feeling a sudden burst of anger as she started slapping at Henrik, who grabbed her by force and held her against him as she wept.

“I tried...I tried to save him. We fell in the water together, holding each other, and the strong waves forced up apart. I tried to save him, I really did. The waves just kept pushing and pushing me further away from him. I…” Henrik started to sob himself into her shoulder.

The woman nodded into him, realizing the truth of his words. She knew he would never have let anything happen to her boy intentionally. He would have protected him. She was just angry to see Henrik alive while her son was dead. “What took you so long to come back? Why did you wait so long, Henrik? Your parents are worried about grief!”

Wiping his eyes with the heel of his hands, he explained, “I...well, something happened to me that made me forget for a while. I had no memory of it all. A priestess specializing in Restoration magic helped me recover what I lost, and I came here as soon as I was able.”

Adrian’s mother pushed away from Henrik, straightened her skirts, and wiped her eyes dry with a handkerchief. “Who is this?”

Henrik looked at Farkas, forgetting he was there. “Oh, this is Farkas. He is a member of the Companions. He saved my life. I would have died had he not.”

“Would you boys like to come in? I believe I can scrounge some tea or something.”

“Thank you, Ms. Maccius, but I need to see my parents now. I...I just wanted to stop by and tell you how sorry I am. Since I got my memories back, I have missed him every minute of my life.”

The two men left Henrik’s mother, guilt weighing heavily in Henrik’s heart, wondering if he could have tried harder to save Adrian.

“Don’t do it, Henrik. Don’t you dare,” Farkas said, looking at the guilt crossing his friend’s face. “This isn’t your fault. I know you enough to know you would have done whatever you could to save him.”

Henrik nodded but remained silent as the two walked into the residential district of Solitude. He stood in front of his parent’s house— _his house_ —afraid to go in. His heart pounded, and his palms were clammy from nerves. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and walked in. The house was quiet as he looked around, wondering if anyone was home. 

As Henrik looked around for his family, Farkas was in awe. He knew Henrik’s family was wealthy, just not how wealthy. The house was massive and beautifully decorated with comfortable furniture, paintings, rugs, tapestries, more books than he had ever seen in his life, and a hearth in every room. 

They headed upstairs, and Henrik was afraid to call out, not wanting to scare anyone. He came to his sister's room and could hear her playing quietly behind the closed door. Opening it, Svari looked up to see her big brother alive and didn’t waste a second running to him. Henrik lifted her up as they held each other.

“I knew you weren’t dead! I told them, and they didn’t believe me! I just knew it! I knew it!”

“You were always the smart one of the family, sis.”

“I missed you so much!” she cried.

“I missed you too,” he choked.

As soon as he put her down, she looked up, just noticing Farkas, eyes wide. “I didn’t think anyone was bigger than my brother. Who are you?”

Farkas waved with a smile. “Hi, I’m Farkas, and a friend of your brothers.”

“He saved my life, Svari.”

Svari then hugged Farkas. “Thank you for saving my brother.” She grabbed Henrik’s hand and pulled him out of her room. “Come on. Mama and Papa will be so happy to see you!”

“Mama! Papa!” Svari yelled out excitedly.

“Svari! Keep it down. Your mother is resting...” Their father scolded, taking a moment to register in his mind that his son was standing before him, not quite believing what he was seeing. Part of him thought he was a ghost except that he was holding Svari’s hand. “Son?” Tears welled up in his father’s eyes, something Henrik had never seen him do before. His father was always so stoic and calm, so it felt strange to see him so emotional, even if he was trying to hide it.

“Hi, Father,” he grimaced at how his words felt so hollow and inadequate once again. _Why can’t I think of something better to say, like ‘I missed you,' or ‘I love you.’_

“How....how…”

“Let’s go find Mother. We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

They entered his mother’s room to see her sitting in a comfortable chair, staring out the window and looking older than when he left her not so long ago. Her long and curly red hair, laced with gray, hung limply, and she looked like she had recently cried. The pang of guilt at seeing his mother's pain was almost overwhelming for Henrik, so much so, he was afraid to talk to her.

“Love, Henrik is home. Look, dear.”

She would have called him cruel if he was prone to such trickery, but he was mostly a serious man. She looked over to see her son looking healthy and well before her, very much alive. “Henrik…”

“I’m so sorry, Mother.” _There, that’s better._

His mother came running over to him, held him and wept. “I couldn’t get over you,” she sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, trying to hold back his own tears.

The family all sat eagerly waiting to hear Henrik’s story in the parlor as servants brought in food and drinks. He didn’t know how to explain it all, so he took a deep breath and dove right in. “I should have told you a long time ago, but I was too afraid...I still am. I...I had a lover for five years. You know Adrian as the son of our cleaning lady, Ms. Maccius, and that we were good friends,” he explained as he fidgeted with the edge of his tunic, afraid to look his parents in the eyes. 

“I love him...loved. I was too afraid to tell you, and when I found out you were going to marry me off, I tried to be happy about the news, but I was distraught. I didn’t want to disappoint you, but I did just that with my selfish choices, didn’t I? I hurt you in the worst way. 

I bought a ticket for Adrian to travel with me. We were to get off in Dawnstar and start a new life together. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without him, married to some woman I would come to hate, and she would loathe me in return as I wouldn’t be able to give her what she wanted.

“As you know, the ship sank in a storm. I managed to survive, but Adrian did not. He...he drowned.” Henrik’s lip quivered as he tried not to weep in front of his parents. “I...uhm, I hit my head and lost my memories,” he lied. He didn’t think they needed to hear the grisly details of his torture or the fact that he was now a monster as well. “This man here, Farkas, saved my life. The Companions took me in, and I have been with them since. It was only recently I recovered my memories and came as quickly as I could to tell you I was still alive...after I grieved over Adrian. Well...that’s it, I guess.”

Henrik couldn’t take the silence from his parents. They were so happy he was still alive, but he knew they would struggle with this. It was his choices that got Adrian killed, hurt his family.

His father suddenly coughed, deciding to be the one to speak up. “Son, we appreciate your candor, but to be honest, we had our suspicions.”

Henrik suddenly looked up in surprise. “What?”

“Yes, well, you were spending so much time with that boy, Adrian, that it was probably more than just friends, especially since you never once took an interest in a girl and pushed away the rest of your friends. We weren’t really sure, the signs were there, but when you said you were eager for the marriage we arranged for you, we thought we had been mistaken.

I, uhm...we aren't exactly happy with it, to be honest. We don’t really understand it, but we love you. With everyone believing you are dead, the girl is now betrothed to someone else, thankfully it didn’t hurt my business, and her father remains my partner.”

“I wish you had come to us, Henrik,” his mother finally spoke up. She had been distraught the entire time, only just recovering today, knowing her son was alive. “We would have figured something out, but I...I, we are so happy you are alive. That is all that matters.”

Henrik felt more guilty than ever. He loved his parents and knew they were good people, but never once expected that they would accept him and another man, especially one that was not of noble birth. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you enough to be honest. I ruined everyone’s life by not telling you...killing Adrian. I hurt you all. Even if he lived and there was no shipwreck, you still wouldn’t have known what happened to me. What I did was undeniably selfish.”

Henrik’s mother stood and pulled him up from his chair to hold him. “Your decision was...yes, selfish. But no, son...no. It must have been so hard for you. Don’t blame yourself for his death. You have no control over storms and sinking ships.”

“I have something else I should tell you. I have joined the Companions, and I would like to stay with them...if, if that’s alright with you. They are good people, and they have given me a purpose.”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t you stay here?” his mother asked with a worried look on her face once more. She just got him back and didn’t want him leaving again.

“I can’t, Mother. There are just too many memories here. I will just keep getting reminded of Adrian. I need to do something with my life. You don’t need to worry about me. I am making my own money now, and I think I’m OK at it.” He looked over at Farkas questioningly.

“Yeah, he’s good at it,” Farkas said, awkwardly, who had been silent the entire time, being moral support for Henrik.

Henrik’s mother went over and pulled Farkas into a hug as well. “Thank you for saving our son.”

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, feeling his face turn hot, embarrassed for some reason, not used to mothers.

The two men stayed the night at the house, in separate rooms, and left the next day back to Whiterun, Henrik’s new home.

“You sure you don’t want to stay longer with your family, Henrik?”

“I’m sure,” he said as he spurred his horse into a gallop back to Whiterun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Learning to love again.


	14. Friends to Lovers...Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months of grieving, Henrik and Farkas are able to reconnect once more, just in time for Heart's Day Festival.
> 
> A little fanart today...not as good as my last one, but I tried lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content this chapter, thus NSFW.
> 
> **I have decided to change the ratings to Explicit because of the sexual content. It's not porn in the least, but I think I write my stories just enough that they should probably be rated a bit higher due to is sexual nature.
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting! It means so very much!! <3

It had been nearly five months since Henrik recovered his memories. As he grieved less and less, he strangely started drifting away from Farkas more and more. Farkas knew it was a difficult adjustment for the man, that Henrik had lingering guilt for being with Farkas, but it had been hard on him as well. He had grown to like Henrik very much, more than he had initially, but they had kept their distance. No, Henrik kept his distance. That distance did nothing to curb Farkas' desire to be with the man. If anything, it exacerbated it.

 _Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that garbage_ , Farkas groused in his head _._ He started to give up hope that anything would happen between them again as time went on. He didn’t resent Henrik for pushing him away despite Farkas’ best efforts to be there for him and help him. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

For a while, Henrik needed Farkas by his side as he recovered, but once he did, Henrik started getting more distant. Farkas had expected them to get closer, but the opposite had happened. He wanted to talk about it with his friend, but he didn't want to put pressure on him either, not sure if there was a good time for such things, so he kept silent.

Farkas stretched as he came up to the dining hall for breakfast. Everyone was sitting there eating and talking, all except for Henrik. They had only made love once, but he had not forgotten it and was beginning to sorely miss the man even though they saw each other every day when they were in town.

Farkas sat next to Aela, who was showing in her pregnancy, eating the equivalent for ten rather than two. 

"I haven't seen your puppy around lately...is he working?" she asked with her mouth full of eggs.

"Aela, I didn't realize you were havin' a litter instead of one baby," Farkas retorted, shoving his own eggs in his mouth irritably. 

She huffed and realized she didn't know why she was so bitchy towards Farkas, who only just woke up and sat down. Aela believed she was teasing him, but in all her years of doing so, he not once laughed, usually just ignoring her. Normally, Aela didn't care about the feelings of others, but since her pregnancy, she was going through all sorts of emotions. _Maybe I have been too hard on Farkas._

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said that. I know you're hurting," Aela muttered.

Farkas stopped mid-bite, shocked to hear an apology coming from someone like Aela, who never apologized for anything. He wanted to lash out at her, to ask her why the sudden change of heart, but he decided not to question it and accept the sincerity of her words. "Whatever, it's fine…"

Henrik had not been gone after all. He had skipped breakfast altogether and headed straight to the training yard to work on his fighting form to warm up before he hit the practice dummies with his sword. He had slacked off too long while he was grieving, gaining unwanted weight, feeling muscles weakening from a lack of use. He was determined now to get back in shape, soon realizing it helped with emotional issues and to clear his mind.

Farkas came outside with some tea, surprised to see Henrik in the training yard practicing as if he were in a fight with an invisible opponent. It pleased him the man was still around as he sat down quietly so he wouldn't be noticed. He watched his distant friend swinging kicks, jumping, and punching the air while Farkas sipped his hot beverage. Henrik's legs swung gracefully as his body spun around, never once losing his balance. His sweat glistened in the early light of Mundus that dripped down his bare chest. Farkas never tired of watching him.

He observed that Henrik had gone a little soft in the mid-section, not that he looked terrible, he didn't, but he seemed to be determined to get fit and strong again.

Farkas was missing the man before him. It was hard on him to have someone he wanted so near, yet so far out of reach. His heart skipped a beat when Henrik caught him watching, not sure if it was because Henrik caught him staring or the fact that he noticed him, but his eyes never wavered. He slowly sipped his tea nonchalantly as if he had not a care in the world.

He watched Henrik finish his practice fighting, then grabbed a cloth to wipe the sweat off his face and body. Farkas started to squirm slightly when their eyes met again, and Henrik ambled over to him, sitting down at the same table. 

"Hey," Farkas said, cringing, wishing he had said something more interesting.

"Hey…" Henrik looked around the large porch and around the training yard as if looking for something, then turned back to look at Farkas. "Can we talk? No one is around, and I have been doing some thinking…"

Farkas swallowed hard, hoping Henrik wasn't going to tell him that they could never be, not acknowledging that they weren't together anyway. "Uhm, sure…" he nodded at the man, feeling nervous, discreetly wiping damp hands on his pants.

"I first want to say I'm sorry. I know I have pushed you away. You probably think I don't want to be friends with you anymore or…" Henrik gave a loud sigh. "Let me start over. I pushed you away because after I grieved, I felt that if we went back to the way things were, I would be using you as some sort of...I don't know, as a replacement for Adrian, I guess. It wasn't fair to you, but I don't know, I couldn't express that because I didn't recognize what I was feeling at the time. He was my first love, my first relationship...it's not like I have experience in how to deal with these things…"

"Hey, no one does. Everyone deals with grief differently."

"I know we all deal with things differently. No, it's not that... it's the relationship part. I pushed you away, but at the time, I didn't understand why. It's taken me a while to figure it out. I have done a lot of thinking these past few months and realized that it wasn't fair for either of us to keep going as we were while I grieved. I didn't want you to feel you were Adrian's replacement. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

"I'm not saying I handled it well. At first, all I knew was I had to be away from you. You have been by my side through the worst of me and helped me recover. You must have thought I was a horrible person for doing so. If I had recognized it for what it was, I would have said something sooner. It was hard...my mind was all over the place." Henrik soon found he couldn't look at Farkas in the eyes and looked around everywhere but his face, then settled on fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.

Whatever Henrik was trying to get across, Farkas was relieved to have a more meaningful conversation with him, glad to know that Henrik was trying to fix some things between them. "I never thought you were horrible. I knew you were grievin' in your own way. Though, I can't say it didn't sting a little that I spent less and less time with you. I...I have missed you."

"Believe it or not, despite my distance, I have missed you too...a lot. I...I would, uhm, like to try again with you if...if, uhm, you're willing. I think I'm ready." Henrik was rubbing his neck in embarrassment and an awkwardness he hadn't felt in a while. Maybe it was from the fear of rejection, and he wouldn't blame Farkas if the man no longer wanted to be with him.

"I would like that."

Henrik's eyes shot up to look at Farkas, feeling quite pleasantly surprised. "You would?"

"I would, Henrik. You have done nothing for me to resent you or be angry. Yes, it hurt, but I don't think you did it on purpose. You just had a rough time, and I don't blame you, but I would like you to come to me and talk if there are other issues. I don't really like being left in the dark."

Henrik nodded vigorously, "Of course, I feel terrible, and I won't do that again to you."

Henrik smiled shyly at Farkas, which he loved and made him melt. Henrik had such a charming smile, and it made his cheekbones to die for. He reached for the man's hand as Henrik leaned across the table to give Farkas a kiss.

The two men were so distracted by each other, they didn't hear someone come up to them. They only noticed when they each felt a hand on a shoulder and looked up to see Aela smiling at both of them. 

"Awww, the Wolf and the Whelp are together again! You two are so cute together!" Aela said as she bent down and kissed each man on their foreheads and waddled off to train.

Both of them stared after her, somewhat in shock, wondering what came over the woman realizing her words were sincere. 

Henrik looked back at Farkas questioningly, eyebrow cocked, who shrugged. "Don't look at me, I have no idea."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henrik got out of the bath and was drying his hair in the communal bedroom when Farkas burst in. "Why aren't you ready yet?! Come on! The celebration won't last all night, ya know!"

"Really? That's not what I heard," Henrik smiled coyly at the man.

"OK, fair enough, but that's when things get private! Not the festival, so please hurry up. This is the first time I have actually had someone in my life I care about during Heart's Day."

Henrik walked up to the large and handsome Nord and planted a kiss on his lips. "You look handsome, by the way, in your red tunic. The color suits you."

Farkas wrapped an arm around his lover, caressing his bare back. "And you look handsome half-naked, but I would like to attend the celebration sometime soon."

Henrik put on his own tunic in white, put his boots on, and fixed his hair as best he could. Not having a looking glass didn't help. Farkas fixed some stray hairs and grabbed his hand, pulling him eagerly outside after they grabbed their fur cloaks.

Sun's Hand was usually one of the colder months of the year. Snow still covered the ground, and breath plumed out of people's mouths. Heart's Day was a celebration of love and worship. Some folks chose to worship Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, and some decided to honor Dibella, the goddess of love. 

When the two men reached outside to the center of town, the evening was glowing in multiple hues of color. From the lanterns that were strung throughout the city to the Gildergreen tree. Now that the tree had been restored, thanks to Henrik and Farkas, its blossoms sprinkled down to the ground covering it in a carpet of pink.

Flower pots were placed throughout the city, adding to the burst of colors, and merchants were open late selling their wares of Dibella and Mara amulets, flowers, desserts, and more. A Priestess of Mara was on Hand should any couple wish to wed that evening. Bards were hired to sing songs of love throughout the city and inside the Bannered Mare, but in the center of town in the Market District was a lively band that played upbeat music with drums, lutes, and flutes. 

Henrik had never seen Farkas so excited as he pulled him in the middle of the Market District to dance. It was a traditional Nord dance as couples swung, hopped on feet, clapped hands, spun around with other partners, and back again. 

They finished the dance laughing and holding on to each other as the two rushed off to get some ale and food at the tavern, which was packed with people in various states of inebriation. Once they grabbed their brews, the two watched the people dance, sing, kiss, and drink. Some couples rented rooms to celebrate privately.

They saw Vilkas in the far corner waving. He had a beautiful blond Nord girl under an arm, leading her out of the tavern, probably to take her back to his room in Jorrvaskr for a private celebration.

The two men faced each other as they leaned their shoulders against a wall. Farkas had an arm about Henrik's waist as the two tried to talk through the noise, kissing each other periodically, not caring who saw. It was, after all, Heart's Day—a day to celebrate love in all its forms. 

The night was getting late, and the two men were tipsy from mead and ale as they headed back to Jorrvaskr, hand in hand. Farkas pulled Henrik along as they headed to his bedroom and wasted no time in kissing, grabbing, touching, pulling off clothes, and falling into the bed. 

Henrik pressed kisses on Farkas' face, working his way to the ears as he dragged a delicate tongue and whispered that he wanted him. Farkas rumbled a growl in desire at the words and ran his hands down towards Henrik's ass, squeezing the firm yet pliable flesh. He grazed a finger around his tight hole as Henrik held his breath at the touch. 

"Can I have you inside of me?" Farkas asked. He had been with men before but had always been the one on top. He was the one who entered his lovers. Knowing that Henrik enjoyed it both ways, he wanted to try it for once.

Henrik stopped what he was doing and looked at his lover. "Are you sure, Fark? You don't have to do it for me, you know."

"I know I don't. I want to...I'm sure. I trust you."

"I would be happy to do this with you," he said as he kissed Farkas' lips, passionately.

Henrik climbed on top of Farkas, reaching for the table drawer to pull out the oil, which would be needed. Oil in hand, he kissed Farkas once more and worked his way down his neck, chest, and torso, bathing him in kisses and nips. He reached the bigger man's hardness as he ran his tongue up and down, hearing Farkas hiss in pleasure. Henrik's mouth consumed the hard flesh as he sucked and licked, feeling the man squirm beneath him.

Sitting up for a moment, Henrik ran a finger through the thick fatty oil and resumed his licking and sucking while slowly inserting a finger inside Farkas' tightness. He trusted Farkas to tell him if he was uncomfortable as he worked his finger deeper. 

"Uhm, you might want to stop the licking...I, uhm, am going to finish before it's even begun," Farkas warned.

Henrik did as requested, resting his head on the bigger man's thigh as he worked to make him comfortable. After a few minutes of massage and explaining to Farkas that he had to relax, Henrik asked him how he felt and if he thought he was ready. When Farkas nodded, he hovered over him and slowly worked his way in, watching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

The hands running along Henrik’s body while he slowly worked deeper were clammy from nerves as they skidded across his skin. "Are you OK? You would tell me, right?"

Farkas was nervous about it all as it was something entirely new for him. Still, Henrik was slow and gentle, eventually as he penetrated deeper and started to move at a reasonable pace, the pain subsided, and the pleasure began. 

Henrik used his arms to prop himself up to watch his lover, making sure there were no masks of pain on his face, but he seemed quite content. His eyes were closed, mouth parted open as his breathing sped up. It was strange listening to his lover's heart race due to his beast blood, something that still fascinated him.

With rolling hips, he moved a bit faster, testing the waters. When Farkas seemed to still enjoy it, and as he got closer, feeling the heat pool and centralize, a feeling that was complicated to describe to anyone who would ask, he told him to touch himself.

Farkas, never having someone inside of him before, realized what he was missing out on. It was just as pleasurable but in a different way. Henrik kept touching that spot that left him almost wreathing. He knew about the spot but had yet to feel it himself. Farkas grabbed his hardness and started to stroke it when Henrik told him to look at him. There was something about watching his lover watch him as they made love that almost set him over the edge. His blue eyes piercing, but filled with lust, desire, want. He vaguely wondered if his own eyes looked like Henrik's.

He watched Henrik suddenly close his eyes as his breathing and heart rate picked up, knowing he was getting close as he thrust faster. Farkas also stroked himself faster, the culmination of the two sensations sent him over the edge, and he exploded, groaning with each burst and pulse. 

Henrik wasn't far behind, Farkas' pleasure triggered his own, and he too groaned with each thrust, which slowed down in their desperation for more pleasure. He fell on top of Farkas' chest, letting his breathing settle down and get past the shudders.

He felt arms wrap around his back, and a kiss pressed to his head. Henrik sat up weakly and pressed his lips to his lover's mouth, tongue reaching tongue, and settled back down. 

"You OK?" he asked Farkas. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I did enjoy it."

Henrik soon pushed himself up and grabbed a rag to clean off their bodies. Tossing it aside, he curled up next to Farkas.

"Did you like it enough to do it again?"

"Definitely. I see why you like to switch it up."

Farkas ran gentle fingers along Henrik's jawline as Henrik traced fingers through Farkas' chest hair. They were quiet for a while, enjoying their touches. They had been back together for only a couple of weeks now, and Farkas had bought a Heart's Day gift for Henrik but found himself suddenly nervous in giving it to the man, wondering if it was too soon.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Henrik exclaimed as he rushed out of bed and started to dig in the pockets of his pants that were lying on the floor. Pulling something out, he plopped back into the bed and handed the bundle to Farkas. "Gotcha a gift."

Farkas suddenly started laughing at the irony and realized he was silly with his worry. 

"What's so funny?" Henrik said, lightly laughing with the man but not knowing why.

"Nothin'...I got you a gift too and was all nervous about it until you just handed me your gift with such ease and confidence."

"You're cute…"

Farkas looked at Henrik in horror. "I am _not_ cute!"

"Oh, you are definitely cute and even more so now that you deny it. Anyway...open it!"

They both sat up and crossed their legs in bed as Farkas opened the cloth, wrapping the gift and pulled out a beautifully etched leather sheath holding a dagger. He pulled out the blade to see it was engraved in a traditional Nordic pattern and whistled.

"What do you think? Do you like it? It's ebony, and I had the court wizard at Dragonsreach enchant it. It will help with stamina, so you can keep it near when you're huffing and puffing during our lovemaking."

Farkas looked in surprise at the man to realize he was teasing him and laughed, punching him hard in the arm.

"Ouch, I was just joking," he laughed, rubbing his arm. "Seriously, it has fire enchanted to burn your enemies."

"I love it, Henrik. It's beautiful, and you know how much I love weapons. Thanks." Farkas got up to get Henrik's gift. He handed him a box that felt heavy.

Henrik opened it to find three books. He had a broad smile on his face as he picked up one and read the spine, 'The Beggar.' "Oh, you didn't! How did you know?!"

"Well, I know you must have read 'The King' about three times now, and I went on a search for the whole series, thinkin' you might like it. 

"I love it. It's the perfect gift, thank you," he said, leaning in to kiss Farkas.

The two settled back into bed, tangling their bodies together. "I was thinkin' maybe you would like to stay here from now on...with me."

"Hmmm, I don't know... I mean, I guess it would be easier to take you whenever I wanted."

"Such a damned tease… Is that a yes, then?"

"To have the chance to curl up against this body every night? Of course."

"I'm gonna need a bigger bed," Farkas deadpanned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: A search for a cure almost leads to a death
> 
> I hope you check out my newest story of Kaidan and the Thalmor! [Breaking Orenwen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832874)


	15. Cure Towards Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Champions question, sort of cannon. I like to change things up, what can I say? It's off to hunt for witch heads, but they weren't fully prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Would love to know your thoughts so far.

Henrik was walking out of Farkas’ room, strapping his sword to his back and on his way to the training yard when Kodlak called him over. The older man was sitting in his usual spot outside of his room at a table eating breakfast like a worn prop of Jorrvaskr. Volk often wondered if Kodlak ever left his spot. 

Henrik ran through a list in his head of the things he did wrong this time and if he was in for another lecture. “Morning, Harbinger. What can I do for you?” He tried to sound at least pleasant, but he knew his voice was tight. 

“Good morning, boy. I wanted to talk to you for a bit. I’ve already asked Farkas to save you some breakfast. Please, have a seat.”

Henrik sat down at the table and looked at the Harbinger expectantly, though impatiently, eager to eat some breakfast and get outside to train with Farkas. It had become a welcome morning routine as the two sparred. He had also been asked to start training the whelps in physical combat since he had such a unique fighting style, something to give the Companions an extra edge in battle. Spring was in the air as well, and he enjoyed being outside in the warmer months.

Henrik watched Kodlak shove some eggs in his mouth as Henrik tapped his foot impatiently. “I need to get out to the training yard…”

“I know you do. Apologies, I was hoping to be done eating before I saw you.” 

Kodlak looked away, lost in thought before he spoke again. "As I grow old, my mind turns towards the horizon...to Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won't call an animal to glory as he would a true Nord warrior. Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric Lord Hircine. Some may prefer an eternity in his Hunting Grounds like Aela and Skjor, but I crave the fellowship of Sovngarde."

Henrik wondered what he was talking about until it dawned on him, eyes wide. “You’re looking to cure yourself?”

“Yes, have you heard the story of how we came to be? How we became werewolves?”

“I spoke to Vilkas about it once, well, he was going on some long rant anyway one night. He said it was a curse laid upon the ancient Companions, but Skjor was arguing that it was a blessing from Hircine.”

Kodlak nodded, “The boy has a nugget of truth, and I can see Skjor arguing, seeing his faith challenged. The situation is more complicated than either realizes.”

“What is the truth, then?” Henrik surprised himself that he really wanted to know. If Kodlak had a way to cure them all, he would jump on the opportunity to rid himself of his beast. He didn’t struggle with it as Vilkas did, but it still felt unnatural to him. He didn’t like the thing in his head always howling to get out and feed. 

"The Companions are nearly five thousand years old. This matter of beast-blood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions hunted in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power."

“I’m assuming the witches turned them into werewolves.”

The Harbinger nodded. “Yes, but they did not believe the change would be permanent. The witches offered payment, like anyone else, but they had been deceived.

The disease affects not just our bodies. It seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity. And that is their choice, but I am still a true Nord, and I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home."

“That is something I wish for, as well. I had always dreamed of being a warrior and spending eternity there. I didn’t ask to be changed into this. Does this mean you know of a cure? If so, I would jump on the opportunity.

"That's what I've spent my twilight years trying to find out, and now I've found the answer. The witches' magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. They won't give it willingly, but we can extract their foul powers by force. I want you to seek them out. Go to their coven in the wilderness, and strike them down as a true warrior of the wild. Bring me their heads, the seat of their abilities. From there, we may begin to undo centuries of impurity."

“How many witches must I kill?” Henrik asked.

“There will be five of them, and this will be no easy task. I suggest you take someone with you.”

“What will be done with the heads then?”

“Yes, therein lies the problem. Killing the witches will be no easy thing, but then we have to find the rest of the fragments of Wuuthrad and restore to its former glory. Wuuthrad is the only way inside Ysgramor’s tomb far to the North in Winterhold. There, the ceremony will take place in removing our beasts. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

Henrik nodded in agreement. He was still quite young, but even his experiences have proven so. “I will start immediately then.”

“Please be careful and try not to get Farkas killed or yourself.” Kodlak chuckled at Henrick’s surprised face. “It is obvious who you will bring, son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the benefits of being a Companion was traveling. Henrik had never ventured further than the borders of Solitude all his life until that fateful day. He had never been to Falkreath with its dark and ancient forests. The whole place had an air of mystery, yet there was a beauty about it; he was hard-pressed to put into words.

It had taken Henrik and Farkas three days by horse to reach the western border of Falkreath and The Reach. Glenmoril Cave was up in the mountains tucked away between craggy cliffs. Tying up their horses below, they hiked their way up, following an unused rocky trail. As they neared, they could see the cave surrounded by goat heads on spikes, blood, and gore—the tell-tale sign of hagravens. The smell of decay hit their sensitive noses as they choked back the bile that threatened to rise from their stomachs. 

“Urgh, if it's this disgusting out here, I can’t imagine what it’s like inside,” Henrik complained nasally, pinching his nose from the odor.

“Stop your bellyachin’,” Farkas teased. “There are worse things, though admittedly, hagravens are on the top of the list if you remember from our last encounter.”

The two men ducked behind a large boulder as they scoped out the area. “I remember that one being a powerful spellcaster. She almost did you in. Anything else I need to worry about?”

Farkas scoffed. “She didn’t nearly do me in. It was barely a scratch. But yeah, let’s stay away from their talons unless you want brain rot.”

“Lovely…”

Henrik drew his bow as Farkas drew his sword. Henrik preferred to kill the witches from a distance so they could avoid all the spell lobbing and brain rotting. 

The two slowly entered the cave, the smell of decay was exacerbated with the scent of mold, and something else neither could pinpoint, acidic— _body odor?_ It was dark except for the sporadic torch here and there, leaving too many dark corners for things to be lurking about. The flames danced on the stone, causing shadows to move and keeping the two men on guard.

Henrik had an arrow nocked in case he needed to fire quickly as the two men crept inside in silence. In the distance, the cave passageway opened up to a large cavern with a bonfire in the middle. A hagraven was sitting next to the fire with bloodied talons dug into the flesh of some poor unrecognizable creature, a makeshift altar of Hircine behind her.

They both agreed that Henrik would try to take them out with arrows first, who got down on a knee as he slowly pulled back the string and let the arrow fly. It was a lucky shot as it hit her in the head, killing her instantly, even better, it was quiet. 

Henrik was quick to draw another arrow from his quiver when he saw a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. The death of the witch attracted the attention of a giant frost spider searching for the one who killed its master. It took more than one arrow to bring it down, but he managed to fire three in succession before the creature had a chance to spew its venom at the two men.

“One down,” Farkas whispered.

“How many did Kodlak say there were again?”

“Five.”

“Great...hopefully, they will all be as easy as the first one.”

“Well, now that you said that, it’s gonna be a bitch,” Farkas griped. “Don’t you know not to say things like that?”

Henrik gave Farkas a quick kiss on the lips. “Now who’s being the baby,” he teased.

“You don’t say things like that…” Farkas reiterated.

Three witches had been killed so far along with a skeever as they worked their way towards the forth. “Hang back. She’s distracted, and I can sneak up on her and take her out. You’re runnin’ out of arrows, so let’s save them if we can,” Farkas whispered.

Henrik nodded as he put the bag of heads on the ground, nocking an arrow to have it ready. He kept a close eye on Farkas and the witch as the man inched closer to her. 

Neither man saw the giant frost spider slink quietly down the wall in the darkness. Before either of them could react, it spat out its venom that froze Farkas in place. The hag spun around with a guttural and breathy laugh. “You think to sneak here to kill? I see you, hear you. You will fail...Companion! Hircine demands sacrifice!”

Henrik fired off the arrow only to miss as she moved faster than one would expect for an old, hunched over creature. She grabbed Farkas’ still frozen body and dug her talons into his throat without drawing blood. “Stop, or I kill!”

“Let him go, hag!”

“Kill her...she will...kill anyway,” Farkas said through gritted teeth, unable to move.

There was no way he was going to let Farkas die just to save himself. He just needed some time to think of a plan as he put down his bow and dropped his quiver.

“Now sword! Do it!”

“No…” Farkas managed to squeak out.

Henrik couldn’t say anything, but he hoped his eyes conveyed ‘trust me’ to Farkas. Removing his sword, he tossed it to the ground as well. With raised hands in defense, he walked closer to the hag and Farkas.

Farkas could feel the venom wearing off, but was afraid to move as the talon was too close to his throat. One wrong move, and she could easily dig it into his flesh. He felt dread when he saw Henrik drop all his weapons, but he saw in Henrik’s eyes that he had a plan, but Farkas couldn’t imagine what without being armed. Henrik had some spells, but nothing strong enough to kill the witch.

Once Henrik was a few feet from the hag, she ordered him to stop with a smile of triumph on her face, her rotting teeth disgusting him. Whatever her plan was, she didn’t get a chance to implement it as Henrik blasted the witch in the face with ice. It wasn’t enough to cause damage, but she was distracted enough that he pulled out a hidden dagger and stabbed her in the head, killing her. 

Quickly pulling out the dagger, he rolled out of the way on time before the venom hit from the spider and threw his dagger at it. It was injured and thrashing from the pain, but it didn’t kill it. Henrik had no choice but to rush at it and burn the thing with his hands having no other weapons. The spider finally died, a withered and burned husk, just in time before Henrik ran out of juice.

He rushed to Farkas to check on him, who had fallen in the sudden chaos only to find that the hag had cut his throat with a diseased talon. It wasn’t enough for him to bleed profusely, but it would make him violently ill, if not kill him.

“Farkas,” he whispered, holding the man, feeling the fear in the pit of his stomach. He tried to run a healing spell on Farkas, but it wasn’t helping, and he didn’t have much left in him after fighting the spider. Henrik was no mage.

“Healing potions and spells won’t work for this. I’m fine...get her head.”

Farkas dragged his body to lean against the stone wall as Henrik got the witch's head. He already could feel the heat of the disease spread and burn through his body, knowing he was infected.

Henrik put the head in the sack, grabbed his weapons, and came back to Farkas to help him up and get out of the cave. They were going to have to find a healer and quickly. He could feel Farkas weakening the closer they reached the cave’s entrance. Not wanting to think about chances of losing Farkas, he put it out of his mind as he loaded their horses with their gear and helped Farkas on to his steed. Henrik got behind his lover, pulling his own horse behind him as he rushed to the nearest town to find a healer.

It took several hours to get to the town of Falkreath, pushing the horses as fast as they would go. Henrik could tell Farkas was weakening and had possibly passed out as he almost slid off the horse a couple of times. He tightly wrapped his arms around him to keep Farkas from falling and pushed on, hoping they could reach a healer on time.

_I can’t lose him! I can’t lose him_ , the words repeated in his head, the fear running deep, especially after Adrian. He tried to put deep down in his mind to focus on getting Farkas well instead of worrying about his potential death.

As soon as he got to town, he jumped off his horse and caught Farkas as he fell off of it, both of them crashing to the ground. “Someone help!” Henrik called out to anyone. He couldn’t carry Farkas’ heavy body by himself. “Please!”

Two guards rushed over and helped to lift the large Nord to the alchemist and healer of the town. They burst through Grave Concoctions and put Farkas down on the alchemist’s bed.

An older Redguard woman rushed over and started to look over Farkas’ wound in his throat. “Hagraven?” she asked, though it was more of a statement.

“Yes, how’d you…”

“Never mind. I have just the thing, but I hope we aren’t too late.”

While the alchemist prepared some potions to counter the disease to stop the spread to his brain, Henrik set about removing Farkas’ armor. He tried not to look at the pallor of his skin or the sweat on his brow, or listen to his labored breathing and struggling heartbeat. His damned beast could sense everything! If he focused on them, he was afraid he would lose it and be of no use to his friend and lover.

“I have some cure disease potions to give him, but I’m brewing something special for him that will be ready in a couple of hours. I hope these will tie him over until then.”

“Thank you...sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Zaria. Don’t thank me just yet.”

Zaria handed him a bucket of cold water of melted snow and a rag. “Keep him cool by running a cold damp cloth all over his body, especially his head. Keeping his hair wet will help keep the fever down as well.”

After they poured the potions down his throat, she left to do other things while Henrik set about keeping Farkas’ body cool. He poured some water through his hair and gently ran the cold, wet cloth along his face and chest, then down his arms. Henrik’s eyes watered, trying to push back the fear that he was going to lose Farkas. It was especially hard on him after losing Adrian. If he lost Farkas too, he wasn’t sure what he would do. _Farkas is still alive_ , he reminded himself. Those four words are the only thing that kept him going.

As the potions ran through Farkas’ body, his breathing became a little more stabilized, and his body temperature went down a bit, but he was not out of the woods yet. It had taken too long to get to the healer.

Henrik held Farkas’ hand and pressed it to his lips, watching him sleep as tears spilled. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. The idea of losing Farkas was too much. To find someone else to finally fall in love with and lose them after suffering a loss already was a lot to bear. _I should have done this mission alone_ , he berated himself.

Zaria stood by the doorway with the stronger batch of potions, but she was afraid to intrude on the weeping man. There was no time to waste, so she finally coughed to let him know she was there so she could treat the gravely ill man. 

Henrik was quick to wipe his eyes and compose himself as he adjusted Farkas so she could pour the potions down his throat.

“There we go. If anything is going to save him, it’s those potions.”

“How long do you think…”

“I am not sure. It could be soon or in the next few hours,” she said as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

The bed was too small for him to climb into, so he leaned his back against the bed frame on the floor and draped Farkas’ arm around him, kissing the back of his hand. His exhaustion finally won out as he started to fall asleep, head leaning back into Farkas’. 

“I love you,” he whispered before sleep fully took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It must have been evening since he woke up to a dark room, a single candle flickering, giving off that eerie movement of shadows that played on the wooden walls. It was the feeling of movement on his shoulder that caused him to stir awake. The hand moved to touch Henrik’s turned face looking at his lover awake and alive as his eyes pooled with wetness.

Henrik stood up and sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head on Farkas’ chest. “Thank the Gods,” he whispered. “I...I thought you were going to die on me.”

“And leave you for some other young stud to snatch up? Never…” Farked joked, albeit weakly.

“You do that to me again, I will kill you myself.”

“Hrmph, I’d like to see you try. I’m still bigger than you.”

“Barely…”

Farkas ran a weakened hand through Henrik’s hair, his head not leaving his chest. “I need mead.”

Henrik barked out a laugh. “I am certain that it is the last thing you need.”

“No, no...I know I’ve read somewhere that mead is the cure-all.”

Henrik pressed his lips to Farkas’ mouth and pulled away, running fingers through his now dry hair and looked at him in the eyes. “I love you, Farkas.”

Farkas’ smile faded at Henrik’s words. “I love you too...probably longer than you have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I was afraid to after...you know. I wasn’t sure if you were ready for such things.”

“Maybe I wasn’t, but I would have been OK to hear the words.”

“Well, now we know,” Farkas smiled. “Just be prepared for me to tell you often.”

“I look forward to it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Farkas and Henrik moved out of the poor alchemist’s house and store, after thanking her profusely and paying her handsomely, and into a room at Deadman’s Drink. Henrik brought Farkas a mead as promised, but the deal was he had to stay in bed. After his one mead, they tangled up in bed together and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Farkas felt well enough that they could head back home to Whiterun. It was just as well as the heads were starting to stink, and they had to pay extra for the stench in the stables. 

Looking forward to getting home to Jorrvaskr and having a hot bath together, little did they know what they were coming home to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: You know what comes after Glenmoril Coven.


	16. Mission or Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A still-recovering Farkas with Henrik come back home to Jorrvaskr to find their world has upended. The two along with Vilkas rush to end the Silver Hand and retrieve the fragments of Wuuthrad, but only with devastating consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3

Henrik and Farkas headed towards Jorrvaskr, which was surrounded by a throng of people and guards, struggling to get through to onlookers. When they saw Aela outside, on guard with both daggers drawn, they knew something was wrong. Her stomach was quite large at seven months pregnant, then saw she was surrounded by several dead bodies on the ground.

Farkas warily approached her, and the closer he got, he could see she was doing everything she could to keep from crying. "Aela, what's happened?"

"The Silver Hand happened," she spat. "They finally got the nerve to attack Jorrvaskr, and here I am too pregnant to slaughter them all! You better get inside."

The two men headed inside to find more dead bodies, mostly of the Silver Hand, and one surrounded by some whelps.

Before Farkas saw who was lying on the ground, Vilkas stopped him and roughly shoved him against the wall, a mask of fury on his face. "Where have you both been?!"

Farkas looked at his brother, confusion crossed his face. "What in Oblivion is wrong with you. We were doing Kodlak's bidding...you know this."

"And that means you weren't here to protect him!"

Henrik tried to pull off Vilkas, but he just shrugged him off. "Vilkas, what is going on! Do you think what happened here is our fault?! Kodlak sent us on a job."

Vilkas let his brother go, who tried to keep from weeping. "Kodlak is...dead. The Silver Hand killed… Maybe Skjor too. He's hanging on...barely. He's downstairs being treated, but his injuries are severe."

Farkas felt like the world just fell out from under him as he walked over to the bodies lying on the ground, thinking at first Kodlak had been injured. He could see Kodlak there, but he couldn't grasp the fact that he was dead. There's _no way this is real._

Farkas could feel a delicate hand touching his shoulder, but he couldn't take his eyes off the old man lying dead before him. He fell on his knees, weeping for his loss, for their loss. The loss of the man he had known almost his entire life. The man who was like a father to him and his brother—to all the Companions. While Farkas grieved, Vilkas was rage and fury, pacing.

"Farkas…" Henrik tried to get his attention, but he was struggling with his own emotions. He had grown to respect the man, despite continually trying to force people to see deeper into themselves more than they wished. Farkas turned into Henrik as he held the man he loved as he wept. 

Vilkas grabbed Farkas and pulled him to his feet, yanking him away from Henrik. "No time for weeping, brother. We have to go now and avenge him! The Silver Hand must die!"

"What? What are you sayin'?" Farkas asked, confused, eyes still on Kodlak's body. He wanted to grieve, not go on a killing rampage. He wasn't even strong enough to fight, still getting over the attack from the hagraven.

"We need to go. Get them before they reorganize!" Vilkas demanded, trying to tug Farkas away from Kodlak and out the door.

"What?" he asked again. "Wait, no…"

"Why do you hesitate, brother? They killed Kodlak!"

"Kodlak would never accept revenge in his name. No...this is wrong," Farkas said, slowly coming to his senses, not wanting to leave the man who may as well have been his father, their father.

"Farkas is right, Vilkas. We can't just go slaughtering people for revenge. I…"

"What do you know, whelp! You haven't known Kodlak as long as my brother and I have," Vilkas hissed.

Henrik stood his ground, pointing at the dead man on the ground, in Vilkas' face. "I know enough that Kodlak would never want you to risk your life over his death."

Vilkas turned to his brother. "Would it help if I told you they took Wuuthrad?"

"Wuuthrad?" Henrik asked. "We can't cure ourselves without it."

"Aye. Maybe you two won't do it for revenge, but we need to do it to get Wuuthrad so we can finally cure ourselves."

"I'm going to let you decide this, Farkas. I will be by your side no matter what you choose, but I cannot make that decision. I don't think I need to remind you that you're still recovering," Henrik informed him.

"What happened," Vilkas asked, suddenly noticing how pale his brother looked, thinking at first it was the grief.

"Nothin', I'm fine. Let's go get Wuuthrad," Farkas insisted.

As the three Companions headed outside, they were stopped by a very angry and weeping Aela. None of them had ever seen her shed a tear and wondered if she could even do so. It shocked them into silence for a moment. 

"How...how is he? Skjor?"

"I don't know...he's still alive. Go to him. They are gone and no point in you hanging around out here," Vilkas offered.

Aela nodded and sheathed her daggers. "Kill them all for Koldlak and Skjor."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Driftshade Refuge looked no more than a hovel from a distance. It was a perfect hideout with its unassuming appearance. The squat building sat in the middle of the woods, the deep snow reaching up along the stone walls. It was the two alert Silver Hand sentries that said otherwise. 

"I'm assuming that place goes underground?" Henrik asked, whispering to not be heard as the twins nodded. "Alright then, let me take the two sentries out."

"I don't think we need to bother with stealth," Vilkas said once the two guards were dead. "They are getting more organized, but they can't handle the three of us."

"Vilkas, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Farkas said, concern in his eyes and voice. "They killed Kodlak, who was the best of us and nearly killed Skjor. Let's not rush in."

"They need to know that they can't just attack Jorrvaskr, kill our Harbinger, and get away with it. I want them to feel the fear before their end."

"You may be here for revenge, Farkas and I are here for Wuuthrad," Henrik insisted.

Farkas knew his brother well enough that there would be no talking him out of anything once he set his mind to it. "Just...try not to get yourself killed. I only have one brother."

The three rushed in the building quickly overrunning two Silver Hand standing guard on the inside. They were no match for the wolf twins as they were quickly cut down.

"Wait," Henrik whispered. "Perhaps Farkas was right. I mean, we don't know this building or what's around the other corner." Henrik was strangely starting to feel anxious about the whole thing. Even though it was around ten months ago since his torture, he could still feel it.

Farkas could see the concern in Henrik's eyes, but there was fear there too. He understood all too well how Henrik felt remembering the day he found him at Gallows Rock. Farkas placed a comforting arm about his shoulders, a sign that he was there for him, and they could take their time.

"What's wrong, you afraid now?" Vilkas spat, anxious to kill and tired of his brother and lover stopping him.

Farkas had had enough of his brother and sucker-punched him in the face, forcing Vilkas to stumble backward into the wall, then sprung up on guard.

"Knock it off, Vilkas!" Farkas said through gritted teeth to keep the volume down. "You know damn well he was tortured by these people. What has gotten into you! This is not like you. I know you're angry, I am too, but you cannot for one second believe Henrik is too afraid. He's here, with us...right now. He's here even after everything he's been through, so stop being an asshole!"

Vilkas suddenly deflated, realizing his brother was right. He was so tightly wound and angry, it wasn't taking much to set him off. It took a punch from his brother to snap him out of it. "Shit, you're right... I'm sorry, Henrik. I didn't mean it. I know you are strong."

"Forget it. Let's just get this over with."

The three Companions moved through the ruined fort killing all in their wake. Vilkas and Farkas were fearless and unwavering in their onslaught, with Farkas being the more level-headed one, but Henrik was working on his nerves. Part of him wanted to lash out like Vilkas, but the other part wanted to run. It was a strange feeling. Vilkas wasn't wrong, he was afraid, but he was also angry. It wasn't enough that he lost Adrian, then attacked by a werewolf, but the Silver Hand took him away and tortured him—blamed him for his affliction. 

Henrik's beast inside was trying to force itself out, feeding on Henrik's reactions, but he shoved it back as far as he could and pressed forward.

The Silver Hand numbers were quickly decimated, and the slaughtering didn't stop until they reached the final room where the majority of the Silver Hand were located. Henrik had thought it was too easy to go through the whole fort. Sentries walked in pairs, easily killed. Now the Companions were faced with at least ten Silver Hand all eating a meal who quickly got up and reached for weapons at the sight of the three werewolves.

Henrik wasn't for revenge, but something more than just a duty was driving him as he cut his sword through a Silver Hand male, his graceful movements ending in terror for the person on the sharp end of his weapon. It was a dance to the death if there was such a thing. He didn't feel the rage he felt early, his killing had become methodical and precise. 

It seemed mere moments when they entered the large room, and now it was over. The cold stone floors covered in blood and gore. Werewolves couldn't have made more of a mess. Henrik wiped his blade clean of blood, taking in their surroundings, assessing the damage.

All three of the Companions had several injuries, but nothing that couldn't be healed. Henrik placed his hand gently on Farkas' wounds, his warm and glowing hand healing as the flesh stitched itself back together. Adrenaline was coursing through the larger man and he grabbed Henrik in a tight squeeze and kissed him. "Not now, you beast. I have to treat your brother."

"Leave me," was all Vilkas said, distracted, as he looked for Wuuthrad. 

"Stop, Vilkas. You don't have to be tough all the time." Henrik forcibly grabbed Vilkas and healed a large gash on the right side of his face.

After some searching, they finally found the Wuuthrad fragments scattered on a table with no regard for their importance and value. 

As the three were walking out, they quickly stopped to a low rumble, a growl coming from some unknown dark corner. Hairs raised up on the men's flesh, their beasts inside suddenly quiet as if in waiting, listening, on guard. They drew their swords, silent, waiting to hear it again. 

Not hearing it again, they sheathed their swords and walked out, not noticing the glowing eyes in the darkest recesses of the cavernous room as it lunged at Henrik, knocking him on his back, the breath slammed out of his lungs.

Henrik had flashes of memory of when he was attacked last by a werewolf, that fateful day the Silver Hand captured him. The creature was so close to his face, he could smell past the dank fur producing something else eerily familiar that his mind couldn't quite pinpoint. There was no chance to think about it as he now had to fight for his survival against a werewolf once more.

Not seeing the twins trying to get the wolf off of him, he felt he had no choice but to turn himself. At least this time, he could defend himself. There would be no way he could fight the feral creature off as a human. Henrik screamed as his form changed, turning into howls and growls. His strong feet kicked the beast off of him as it slammed against the stone walls.

The pain did not stop the creature as it lunged once more at Henrik's beast, solely focused on the other werewolf. Farkas watched in horror as the animal was tearing through his lover, wondering why it was only attacking Henrik. When Farkas and Vilkas tried to pry the wolf off of Henrik, it took little effort to throw the men off and resume its attack on Henrik. 

When Henrik finally got loose, the two creatures circled each other in a dance to the death, waiting for the opportunity to attack. Henrik's beast was excited to finally be let out ready to kill. Both of them were running more on instinct than thought. Henrik swiped long, sharp claws at the creature before him, slicing through flesh, blood turning the light-colored fur, red.

Black and pale fur meshed together as if in balance of light and dark were it not for the two trying to kill each other. Henrik finally managed to get the creature on its back as he bit into the throat in a will of power and domination, forcing the other animal to submit. When it continued to claw at him and fight, drawing blood as well, Henrik bit into the throat, tearing it open.

The taste of blood, instead of giving the creature pleasure, caused disgust in the human within as he quickly changed back, throwing up the coppery liquid and flesh. 

Farkas and Vilkas had watched the whole battle in horror, afraid to get in the middle of it, afraid to change lest they kill Henrik in the process from bloodlust. Once Farkas saw Henrik change, he gathered his wolf armor to bring it to him and check on his wounds.

Henrik was naked on the ground, breathing heavily, heart pounding in his ears, trying to still his adrenaline, wiping blood from his mouth as he watched the dead creature turn from a wolf to a human once more. 

If anyone has sat atop a mountain and looked down below, knowing one misstep could lead to their death, that dizzying feeling that caused one to quickly step back before falling. That was how Henrik felt at that moment when he saw the dead and torn body before him. He would recognize that body anywhere, the blonde hair. It mattered little that the flesh was torn and bleeding. Vertigo almost caused him to pass out.

A low guttural sound escaped Henrik's throat, a sound Farkas had never heard his lover make before. It was a combination of pain, sorrow, anger, frustration, hatred, fear...if one could describe such things. 

"Adrian…" Henrik whispered as tears spilled out of his eyes, creating clean lines on his bloodied face. His first love. The one who fled with him to start a new life. The one who was thought to have drowned and died. He crawled over and gathered his old bloody lover into his arms and held him as he wept.

"Henrik," Farkas said gently hearing the name, knowing the man was going to be in a world of emotional hurt. "Henrik…" he repeated.

"NO!" Henrik suddenly shouted, shoving Farkas off of him. He put down the dead man and stood naked, grabbed his armor, and shoved his bleeding body into it. "There has to be something here...something!"

Vilkas looked at his brother questioningly, not knowing what was going on.

"Henrik's old lover who was supposed to be dead," Farkas whispered in Vilkas' ear.

Farkas was terrified for Henrik. The fear forced itself into a knot in the pit of his stomach. His last grieving period was long and horrible. Now that he's killed his first love, Henrik will come to blame himself for Adrian's death. Farkas didn't know what to do. This sort of thing was beyond him, especially since he was grieving himself.

"Do not leave his side, Farkas," Vilkas demanded, grasping his brother's arm tightly. "He is going to need you now more than ever."

"But...I mean, shouldn't I give him space and time," he gasped, feeling his own anguish.

"No, not this time. He's going to blame himself, and he may not recover from it unless he has someone to bring him back. The only one who can do that is you. You're going to have to...watch him, brother. You are in pain too, but Henrik...may do something to himself."

"Where is it!" The twins could hear Henrik yell out and he ran around the large room. "It has to be somewhere!"

"Henrik, what do you need, love...what do we need to find. We can look together," Farkas offered gently. 

"A journal...something! They must have written it down. Why was he here? He drowned! He died! NO! I did not just kill him! I couldn't...how can I kill a dead man?! How? I cannot kill what was not alive, could I? Did I just kill Adrian?" Henrik rambled his questions as he fell to his knees and screamed at nothing.

Vilkas grabbed his brother by the arm once more, "Remember, do not leave him. I'm going to go back to Jorrvaskr to bring back Wuuthrad. You stay with him. He is going to push you away, hurt you...do not fall for it. He loves you."

Farkas nodded and watched his brother leave. He then bent down to the grieving man, something he now had some experience with from the last time. "Henrik…come on. Let's look for that journal together."

"No! Get away from me!" Henrik shouted and shoved Farkas off of him. "I...I let him down...twice! I killed him twice! How is that possible?! I...I will just kill you too!"

"Stop! You are not gonna kill me, so get that fucking out of your head right now! You are not to blame for any of this!"

Henrik scowled at the man and stormed off to look for any written record on Adrian. After a good hour-long search in the massive fort, Farkas found something promising on a table next to a bed. He scanned it's contents and found words written about a shipwreck and survivors. But it wasn't written by a member of the Silver Hand, it was written by Adrian himself. 

"Henrik! Over here!" 

Henrik came running over, snatching the journal out of Farkas' hands. _Adrian's journal_ —he thought as he ran a delicate hand over the worn cover. It was something that he always kept close to him. Looking through it, most of the pages' words were washed away from their time in the ocean as if memories magically wiped clean, but the crumpled pages were dried out and pressed to be written on once more. Henrik didn't stop to read the words and only put it in his bag and stormed out of the fort in a rage, not looking back at his dead lover—he couldn't. 

Stopping dead in his tracks, Henrik couldn't leave Adrian to rot in this place of Oblivion. He and Farkas carried the dead man out and buried him under some trees. Henrik was loath to leave him behind like that, but he vowed to come back for him and have him properly buried. 

The horses were getting tired. Henrik took off and rode his horse as fast as he could, not knowing or caring what direction he was going in. He just had to go— _go somewhere, anywhere, away from here._

"Leave me!" Henrik finally yelled out, knowing Farkas had been following close behind. 

"Not gonna happen. I'm not leavin' you alone because I love you. It is the last thing you need right now."

"Wrong! It is exactly what I want and need right now! I don't need you or want you! Get the fuck out of my life!"

Farkas swallowed back the stinging words and pushed on, not letting Henrik out of his sight.

They rode on until both men were slumped in their saddles, horses barely moving along. Farkas bolted upright after almost falling off the horse, trotted over to Henrik's horse, pulling it to a stop. Henrik was slumped over, his face nuzzling the horse's neck, having fallen asleep, surprised the man hadn't fallen off.

Jumping off, Farkas walked over to pull Henrik off his horse. He had to make camp so they both could rest. It was early morning, but there was no point in moving on. Henrik tried to fight off Farkas, but he was too tired to be effective as Farkas put him down gently on the ground and left to get the tent. 

Farkas was relieved Henrik was too tired to flee while he set up camp, who had already fallen asleep on his bedroll in the tent. While Farkas was exhausted, he was worried that if he fell asleep, Henrik would flee and leave him behind, so he stayed awake.

It must have been early afternoon when Farkas bolted upright in a panic, realizing to his chagrin that he fell asleep. Looking around the camp in a panic, he let out a loud breath in relief that Henrik was still sleeping in the tent, or so he thought. Farkas could hear the elevated heartbeat and breathing of one awake.

Farkas left the man in peace, to be alone with his thoughts for a while, not wishing to intrude. He threw more logs on the fire and went to dig in their packs for some food, pulling out some dried meats. When he handed some food to Henrik, the man just ignored him.

Farkas looked around the terrain to get an idea of where they rushed off to. In the distance, he could see a settlement in the snowy distance and realized that it could possibly be Morthal since they had long passed Dawnstar. 

He walked over to the tent, having an idea, and wondered if Henrik would listen. "Hen...I, uhm, I wonder if maybe you would like to see your family. Your parents are good people and I think they could do a world of good for you. You need to surround yourself with loved ones right now. We could be there by tomorrow evening if we leave early in the morning." 

Farkas waited for the reply, but none came as Henrik sat in his tent as silent as ever.

"Right...well, think about it, love."

It was late afternoon when Henrik finally came out of his tent, there was enough light that Farkas could see the dark circles under the man's eyes, and it pained him to see Henrik suffering once again. Farkas had spent his own quiet time in grief over Kodlak.

Henrik sat down by the fire, embracing the journal, afraid to let it go. Then he placed it on his lap and ran a loving hand along the leather cover. "I bought this for him," he finally said with a quivering lip, but not shedding tears. "All his thoughts from before erased as was his life, by my hand."

"Hen...you had no idea…"

"Didn't I? I could smell him! It had been long and I almost forgot...I should have known! Instead, my beast came out and destroyed him!" Henrik did let loose the tears from the horrific memory of ripping out Adrian's throat, even if he was a beast.

Farkas tried to pull the man into him, but Henrik shoved him off. "Stop, no! I...I…"

Farkas ignored the man and pulled him into him once more, as Henrik fought him off. "I'm not givin' up, so you might as well sit here and let me hold you. You need it right now, despite your protests. You're gonna know you're loved."

It was at that point that Henrik melted into Farkas sobbing, too physically and emotionally exhausted to push him off. It was bad enough to lose Adrian once, but to lose him again and at his hand was too much to bear. 

"We are gonna go see family tomorrow, OK?" Henrik tried to nod through his weeping as Farkas kissed his head."

As Henrik settled down, he wiped his face and nose, deciding to read Adrian's journal and find out what happened to him.

"You sure you want to read that right now?"

"No, but I need to...I have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Adrian's story.


	17. In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover what exactly happened to Adrian. Henrik returns home to Solitude to the comfort of mothers. Henrik and Farkas finally get a chance to grieve and grow together.

_Middas, 23rd of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

_I finally got this blasted journal dry. I feel almost naked, unable to write my thoughts down. I never thought of having a journal until Henrik, who frequently bought them for me. But I’m now grateful for them, so used to writing down my thoughts._

_I’m disappointed my words washed away. All those memories of Henrik and I from the past few months forever gone. At least they are still in my thoughts. Perhaps one day, I can reflect back and re-write what I lost._

_It hurts to think of Henrik. I don’t know if he lives or not. We were separated in the storm, unable to keep hold of each other through the crashing waves. I nearly drowned myself but managed to snap out of it to find I could no longer see my love... my life._

_I managed to swim to shore, surprised I didn’t freeze to death, though it was a close call. I don’t have that cold tolerance that Nords like Henrik have, but I have my spells, which are stronger than his. I managed to quickly start a fire under some thick trees where it was still dry and quickly warmed up. I’m tired now and going to try to sleep then see if I can find Henrik. I pray to all the Gods he’s alive._

<><><><><><>

_Turdas, 24th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

_It’s morning, and a group of people found me claiming to rescue me, but I have my doubts. They look like bandits to me, but what do I know, growing up in Solitude barely venturing past its borders, my life reasonably sheltered. They share their food with me, and for that, I am grateful, but they make me nervous. There is something in their eyes that scares me. I keep quiet and write._

_They want to bring me somewhere, but I told them I have to find my friend, not mentioning he is my lover. Something holds me back from revealing such things for some reason. They tell me they will help me, but I cannot for the life of me figure out why they would. I should be appreciative, but I do not trust them._

_I miss you so much already, Henrik, my love. I hope you are alive. If you are, I will find a way to find you, and we can be together once more._

<><><><><><>

_Turdas, 24th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

_It’s evening now. Life has taken another disastrous turn! My new companions and I found Henrik! Oh, praise the Gods, but I do not know if he lives! We watched as Henrik sat by the fire and weep. He must think I am dead! I wanted to rush to you to call out to hold you! A woman held me back and silenced me with her hand to my mouth, then pointed._

_To my horror, I saw some beast, half-man, half-wolf. I knew what it was and knew that it was hunting you, my love! I could not do anything! They would not let me go! I struggled from their grasp, but I couldn’t escape. I must save you, Henrik! I wept and felt helpless as the creature tore into you, and the group, who could have easily killed this creature, let it happen!_

_I knew I was right in not trusting them! I watched in my misery as they finally slew the beast and took you away. You were knocked out, and I screamed at them. I cried that they were killing my lover and friend. I saw my words affected them, but not in the way I hoped. They are watchful now, suspicious of me. I have started to keep to myself, afraid to leave._

_You are gone, Henrik. Some of the group separated, taking you away from me. I weep for you. There must be a way I can leave and find you. I do not know how. I am no tracker, but I will find a way._

<><><><><><>

_Fredas, 25th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

_I sit by the fire as we continue on our journey. I think we are headed East, and the snow is very thick. I cannot get you out of my mind, Henrik. If you lived through the monster attack, will you become one yourself?_

_I hear these people in my group talk. I find they call themselves the Silver Hand, and their job is to hunt werebeasts, especially werewolves. The more they talk, the more I fear for you. If you live, I know these people will hurt you. I am so angry inside at the thought, I can barely contain it, but I mask my true feelings. I don’t want them to know any of my thoughts and fears._

_I ask questions, but perhaps too many. There are shifts of Silver Hand who now watch over me. They haven’t taken to binding me, but they do not trust me. It makes it even more difficult to leave._

Several more entries were written just like the others with thoughts, fears, and worries for Henrik’s life and still trying to find a way out of his situation. Adrian made sure to write down as much as he could.

<><><><><><>

_Tirdas, 29th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203_

_It has been a long and weary road getting to the fort. It is old and crumbling, buried deep within snow and rock. I worry it will fall on our heads and crush us. We walked the halls to sights of dead werewolves hanging after a slaughter, heads on spikes. I want to retch from the sight and stench, but I swallow it back. I cannot help but wonder if you are one of them, my love. It takes all my strength to keep from weeping, but I continue to shake from fear._

<><><><><><>

_Sundas, 4th of Second Seed, 4E 203_

_The only thing that helps keep track of the days is my journaling. I am now locked in my room with a guard outside my door. The one positive out of it is I am alone so I can weep freely for you. I do not know what they plan to do with me. No one talks to me now, and none of my questions are answered. I think they plan to do something to me. My dreams of escaping and finding you are quickly diminished. I’m starting to lose hope._

There was not another entry until two weeks later.

<><><><><><>

_Fredas, 16th of Second Seed, 4E 203_

_I can’t remember the last time I ate. I am so hungry. I find it hard to keep a coherent thought or willingness to write. They give me water now and again, but they are starving me for a reason. I fear my time will be up soon. I overhear one talk about turning me. I assume it will be that they will turn me into one of those beasts._

_Oh, Henrik, I'm afraid, and I miss you so much. I hope you are faring better than I, but if you are with these monsters, I know you are not. I used the rest of my strength to write this; perhaps one day, you will find my words, my love. I love you so very much, never forget that._

Henrik wept at Adrian’s words, holding the journal close to his chest, his face buried in Farkas’ neck. He wanted Farkas to go away and leave him alone, but at the same time, grateful the big man refused to leave his side. His emotions were all over the place, wishing there was more written, but nothing was left. The Silver Hand clearly changed him, most likely tortured him until he forgot who he was—feral. 

“He must have attacked me because something deep down inside of him knew who I was,” Henrik explained, struggling to breathe from the weeping and pain.

“Maybe…”

“If I had not have changed into my beast, maybe I wouldn’t have killed him. I could have done what you did for me. Helped him change back and be himself. I could have saved him had I not changed! Why? Why did I change?! I should have helped him!”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Hen. Don’t. My brother and I both agreed he was feral. Maybe deep down, he knew you, but by instinct only. He had no control over himself. He would have killed you. I know he would have killed you, not that I would have let him.”

“Why? Why did the Silver Hand do that to him? He wasn’t even a beast. Why did they make him so then torture him?”

Farkas sighed, still holding onto Henrik. The man wasn’t holding him back, but Henrik wasn’t pushing him away either. “I don’t know, Hen. I will never understand their mindset. Perhaps because he knew you when you were attacked and wanted to punish you for it. I am not sure I want to understand them, to be honest.”

Farkas felt almost empty as Henrik pushed him away and left to go lie down in their tent, curling up on his bedroll. It was early evening, but Farkas was tired. Not afraid any longer that Henrik would flee, he went to curl up next to his grieving lover.

He reached out a hand to touch Henrik’s back, let him know he was there, and loved him, but he shrugged the hand off of him. Farkas understood how Henrik was feeling, but couldn’t help but feel hurt that he kept getting pushed away. _We love each other, and we will overcome this. We have before, and we will again_ , Farkas told himself.

Not expecting a response, Farkas told him he loved him and rolled over to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early morning when Farkas woke up to an empty tent. Panicking that Henrik fled, he burst out of the tent to find him sitting by the fire looking absently at the dancing flames seeing a couple of coneys on a spit for breakfast. _He must have gone hunting_. Despite his heart feeling like it was going to explode out of his chest, relief washed over Farkas that Henrik returned as he stumbled out of the tent.

After breakfast, they packed up and headed straight to Solitude in silence. Farkas would periodically ask Henrik a question or make a comment or observation, feeling lucky to be rewarded with even a grunt. Henrik did not want to talk, though he could be heard once in a while sniffing or choking back a sob. It wasn’t enough that his old lover was dead for a second time, but dead by Henrik’s hand. Farkas understood that, but couldn’t even imagine.

_This may be something Henrik may never get over_ , Farkas thought worriedly for his lover, though admittedly, he worried a bit about their relationship, unable to keep such thoughts at bay.

The closer they neared Solitude, the faster Henrik pushed his horse. This desire to suddenly be with his mother grew, feeling almost like a child once more. Henrik reflected back before his sister was born, and he would curl up at his mother’s legs by the fire at night as she read or did her embroidery. She would periodically reach down and play with his hair. He loved it when she played with his hair, always putting him at ease. It was something so simple, but so loving and calming.

It was early evening when the two Companions walked through the door of Henrik’s old home. They could smell dinner cooking, and if his family had not eaten yet, Henrik knew they would all be in the parlor waiting. As predicted, his family were in their usual spots by the fire, surprised to see his father home. 

They looked up in surprise to see Henrik home, not expecting him. His mother knew right then something was wrong looking at her son’s face. She put down her sewing and stood to embrace him as he melted into her arms and sobbed.

The whole sight was even emotional for Farkas as he teared up, but choking it back, still grieving himself, wishing at times he had a mother to turn to. He and Vilkas didn’t remember their mother or if she ever held them like that, though he was grateful Henrik had parents he could go to when he needed it.

“My son, what has happened?”

Henrik was inconsolable, and his sister too joined in on the holding. His father was too stoic for such things, but he could feel his son’s pain, wondering what had gotten into the boy. Neither of his parents had ever seen him so distraught, even after the last time, not since he was a young boy.

His mother led Henrik up to his old room and put him to bed as if he were five Winters again, tucked him in, and sat on the edge of his bed. “Henrik, tell me what has happened?”

Henrik still didn’t want to talk as he rolled over, away from his mother. He wanted to tell her, but he was just unable to. He failed to form any words to explain.

She let him have his time alone as she kissed his head and left the room, closing the door behind her. 

When she came downstairs, she saw Farkas sitting there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. If anyone had answers, it would be him. She shooed away Svari so the adults could talk. “I know you are my son’s...I’m not sure what to call you. ‘Lover’ seems like you two are adulterers, which clearly you are not, and ‘boyfriend’ seems so adolescent. He wrote about you a while ago.”

Farkas shrugged, though surprised at the red-headed woman, who still appeared youthful despite her age. He hadn’t known Henrik told his parents about them. “I don’t care. What matters is I love him.”

“Good because it seems he needs that right now. What happened, Farkas? What happened to my boy?”

Farkas suddenly started fidgeting, unsure of what to tell them or how much. If he didn’t know Henrik told his parents about their relationship, perhaps he told them about his beast. He decided to approach this more cautiously instead and not assume they knew everything.

Rubbing his neck in discomfort, he explained what happened. “Well, it, uhm...it turns out that Adrian had not drowned after all…”

“What?!” both of the parents shouted. “We need to tell his mother right away!”

“Stop...please! Before you two get excited, the situation has changed.”

The mother and father settled down and listened to the story. “The two had been separated, as you know. Adrian apparently had been saved, though, that wasn’t really the case either. There is a group called the Silver Hand. They are monsters, and my Guild hunts them because they are a danger and a threat. They are worse than any bandits.

Those are the people who apparently saved Adrian. They took him to their fort and decided it would be a good idea to...shit. This is hard...please don’t tell his mother what happened to him. She...she doesn’t need to know the details. Let her believe her son died in that shipwreck because it is better than the alternative, what actually happened to him. I’m only telling you because of how it all affects Henrik.”

When the parents both agreed he pressed on, “The Silver Hand decided it would be fun to change Adrian. See the Silver Hand hunt werewolves. They don’t just kill them but torture them. It is fun for them, and they call it a good thing to justify their evil, but they are worse than the monsters they kill. 

We don’t know why they changed him to a werewolf. Maybe they were bored...yes, they are that bad,” he said, seeing the horrific looks on the parent’s faces. “We had no idea. The Companions were attacked by them recently and stole something valuable from us. We hunted and tracked them to an old fort.

We killed...well, you don’t need to know the details. When it was all over, Henrik was attacked by a werewolf we didn’t see. He, uhm, managed to kill it, and when it changed back to human form, it was…”

“Adrian,” the mother said.

“Yeah, it was. So, I think you can imagine how Henrik feels right now. He believed Adrian to be dead only to find he was...well, you know, and Henrik killed him with his own hand.”

Henrik’s mother dabbed the tears from her eyes, knowing how much pain now her son was in. “Farkas...I appreciate you telling us what happened, but you aren’t fully truthful either. Why?”

Farkas never was a good liar. “Look, there are some things I don’t have a right to tell you. You’re just going to have to talk to Henrik about it. It’s just not my place.”

Dinner was an awkward affair, full of silence. He liked Henrik’s parents, but he didn’t know them well enough to spend a long time with them without Henrik. When dinner was finished, Farkas loaded a plate of food for Henrik and brought it up to his room. 

Henrik was still in bed, rolled onto his side, back facing the door when Farkas walked in. He knew Henrik was not asleep by his breathing and heart rate. “I brought you some dinner if you’re hungry.”

Even though he was still not talking, Farkas was relieved Henrik allowed himself to be at home with his family. He said he wasn’t going to leave his side, but his thoughts drifted more and more to Kodlak. _It’s been a week, and they’ve probably already had his funeral._ The very idea grieved him that he missed it. Between Henrik and unable to mourn Kodlak, Farkas finally wept to himself quietly. Kodlak was like a father to him, and now he was dead, unable to properly grieve and be there for the funeral. Farkas knew Kodlak would understand, but it didn’t lessen his pain.

Henrik heard the sounds of weeping, and he turned around to see Farkas in a chair, face in his hands. He had been so distraught with his loss and killing Adrian, he had forgotten Farkas’ loss, the loss of Kodlak, who may as well have been his father. He reached out a hand, “Farkas…” he whispered.

Farkas looked over at Henrik’s voice and saw his hand reaching for him. He got up, removed his boots, and curled up in bed with Henrik as the two held each other and wept. “I’m so sorry I forgot about your own pain…” Henrik said, voice shaking from all the emotions.

Farkas just nodded on Henrik’s shoulder in understanding. The two men held on to each as if they were each a lifeline until they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two men spent the next six weeks in mental and emotional recovery together. They eventually made it out, exploring Solitude and all the places Henrik used to enjoy doing in his youth. Henrik was surprised he could be in Solitude and visit places he used to with Adrian without emotionally crushing him. It helped that he and Farkas made their own memories about the town. 

The Winking Skeever Inn was a regular romp for the two Companions as they enjoyed their mead and made new friends. It became a sort of a vacation for them both.

Farkas looked back on his life, realizing he never had a vacation. Sure he took off now and then between jobs, but those days involved extensive training and teaching. Never did he just leave and relax for days on end. 

Henrik and Farkas made an effort to get some training in order to prevent complacency and weight gain from the fatty foods they had been eating at the house, but on the whole, it was a pleasant time as they recovered and got to know one another more than they ever thought possible. 

Some days were spent hunting, others lying about in the light of Mundus by the pond. Evenings were usually spent making love, sometimes they would rent a room at the Inn so they wouldn’t have to be as quiet.

Henrik never did tell his parents what really happened to him, per Farkas’ suggestion. He felt it was better his parents didn’t know what a monster he was. He had hoped to eventually be cured, but the witch's heads were probably rotted by then. 

The two men were snuggled next to the fireplace in Henrik’s bedroom feeling better than they had in a long while. “I guess it’s time to go back soon,” Henrik said reluctantly, not wanting to stop what they were doing.

“Yeah, we should probably get back.”

Before they headed out, Henrik decided to come clean to his parents. He finally came to terms with what he was and that there was no longer a cure. He didn’t want them to find out by accident.

“Mother? Father?” He said one night.

“What is it, son,” his father replied.

Henrik gripped Farkas’ hand tightly, his anchor and support. “I think you should know the truth about me...it’s time.”

The parents looked at each other worriedly but kept silent to allow him to speak.

“Uhm, the reason I was able to trounce a werewolf was that it is also what I am. The day after the shipwreck, I was attacked by a werewolf. I had no weapons on me and no way to defend myself. A group called the Silver Hand, I believe Farkas mentioned them, killed the beast, but not before it tore into me. Because I lived, I changed. They took me away and...I’m not going to tell you the details. You can imagine, I’m sure. Farkas is one too.

We were supposed to find a cure. We did, but never got the chance to complete it, and now it is too late. It is something we will just have to live with for the rest of our lives. I never told you because I didn’t want you to suffer more than you already have, and I didn’t...don’t want you to think I’m a monster. I didn’t ask for this, but...but, I don’t turn, rarely. I have pretty good control over it. I...I, uhm, just thought you should know. I am tired of keeping things from you.”

He had not been looking at his parents when he told them the story, but he did when he was done to see his mother weeping. It pained him to see her hurting. “I’m so sorry, Mother. If there was another way I could change back, I would take it.”

His mother was weeping because of everything her son had gone through since he left home. All the pain he had suffered. She trusted that he wasn’t a monster and wouldn’t hurt anyone. He would have already done so had he not have the control he claimed.

“I, uhm,” his father coughed, suddenly feeling angry. “I’m not sure what to say about this. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“Stop, husband! He’s our son! It doesn’t matter,” she yelled at him. “Henrik, I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone intentionally. You have always been a kind soul. I am so sorry for everything you have been through, and I regret the day we shipped you off to Windhelm. None of this would have happened if we weren’t so quick to get you married.”

“No! Stop, you do not get to blame yourself for that. You are not at fault and never think that” Henrik demanded and went to hold his mother. It was a strange feeling to feel his father come up and embrace him too.

The next morning Henrik and Farkas said their goodbyes and left back home to Jorrvaskr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3
> 
> Next: Meanwhile, back at Jorrvaskr. The duo finally return to Winterhold.


	18. Milestones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an assortment of happy moments. Skjor lives, a baby comes, marriage, proposals...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!

The twins and Henrik had left Jorrvaskr the day before to slaughter the Silver Hand and retrieve the fragments of Wuuthrad. That left the rest of the Companions to clean up the mess and bodies after the attack.

The Silver Hand bodies were thrown unceremoniously onto the fires of the Skyforge to be burned to ash and none to weep for them. Kodlak’s body would be kept in the cold using magic to hold until the return of the rest of the Companions for the funeral.

As Aela wobbled around trying to help clean the disaster of the place, she noticed a sack leaking blood on the floor. She wondered who would bring in such a foul thing and leave it there on the ground, wondering if it was a gift from the Silver Hand. Opening it, she recoiled from the odor, and her stomach did somersaults, feeling like it did in the early stages of her pregnancy.

She put a hand to her mouth and nose, looking inside to find four severed Hagraven heads, and Aela almost retched at the sight. Hagravens were disgusting enough without having their heads removed, bleeding, and rotting on the floors of Jorrvaskr.

She was going to toss the whole thing away, wondering why such a thing was left there, but remembered overhearing Kodlak talk about the cure from lycanthropy, mentioning something about hagravens. Since there were several heads, she wondered if anyone else had plans for treatment. She wasn’t going to be one of them, but if they wanted to, it was their choice.

“Ria! I need some help,” she called out to the brunette Imperial woman, the newest member of the Companions after Henrik.

“Yes, what can I do?”

“I need you to take this bag to Dragonsreach and speak to the Farengar, the Court Wizard. We need a way to preserve this. See if he can keep this on ice for a while as he has done for...Kodlak. Who knows when our shield-brothers will return.”

“What is it? It’s...it’s leaking...and smells,” Ria said, stating the obvious with a scrunched nose.

“Heads, if you really need to know. It’s a long story, but they need to be preserved. Please do it.”

“OK then,” the woman shrugged, always eager to do as she was told.

When Ria left, Aela headed downstairs to be with Skjor and prayed he lived. She loved the man and didn’t want their child to be fatherless. She wasn’t sure she could handle it all without him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days later, Vilkas came back to Jorrvaskr alone and rushed to check on Skjor before crashing for some sleep. The whole trip had been brutal, trying not to think about what his brother and Henrik are going through. All he wanted to do was fall into his bed, but he had to make sure Skjor was still alive. If not, there would have to be plans made to decide who the next Harbinger would be. It was the last thing Vilkas wanted to think about.

He knocked softly on the bedroom door and was answered by Aela in a dress, which was the only thing she could fit into anymore. She looked tired and in need of sleep herself, probably staying up long hours, keeping a close eye on Skjor.

“How is he?” Vilkas whispered.

“He will live. We were just talking for a while, and he’s weak, but I think he will be fine, thank Ysmir.” Aela wasn’t one to show emotions unless it was anger, but her apparent relief and worry were painted on her face without any efforts to mask them. She rubbed her growing belly protectively. “I’m not sure what I would have done without him. It was horrible enough to lose Kodlak.”

“I know...Do you think he could be up and walking, at least for a little while tomorrow? We need to have a funeral for Kodlak.”

“I will ask, but yes, we should do this soon.”

Vilkas also had a mask of worry on his face, looking entirely distracted by thoughts.

“What’s going on, Shield-Brother. You look quite bothered by something, more than what has happened to our family. Were you not able to wipe out the Silver Hand?

“We were...we did. There is a problem, though. As we were leaving, there was a werewolf on the loose that attacked Henrik. His beast unleashed, and they fought quite violently. It was quite focused on the man, completely ignoring Farkas and me…”

“Was he killed?”

“No...though, he may...You know his story, right? About the lover who died, drowned?”

“Yes…,” she said, wondering where Vilkas was going with this.

“The werewolf was his lover. He wasn’t dead after all. I think...I think the Silver Hand changed him willingly, Aela. That’s how far they are taking this. It’s not enough to kill werewolves...they are obsessed with it. So much so, they are willing to create new ones for their tortures,” Vilkas spat.

“Bastards! We need to keep on top of them, Vilkas. We need to keep killing them until they are no more. I wish I could be out there!”

“I know. As you can imagine, Henrik is distraught. He thought the man was dead only to find he lived and died again at Henrik’s hand. I sent Farkas to stay by his side. I was afraid Henrik would...do something to himself. They won’t be joining us for the funeral.”

“What about Farkas? He loved Kodlak.”

“I know…I thought about that, but Henrik lives, and he’s a part of this family now too.”

“Alright. Well, to change the subject, if you didn’t know, there were severed witch heads left here. I sent them to Dragonsreach to be frozen. I’m sure they were for Kodlak or anyone else who wants to be cured.”

“Thank you, Aela. How are you holding up?”

“I would like this baby out of me. I’m distraught over Kodlak, but relieved Skjor lives.”

“OK, well, let me know if there is anything I can do,” Vilkas offered.

Aela nodded and shut the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed almost all of Whiterun showed up to the Skyforge for Kodlak Whitemane’s funeral pyre. Even Jarl Balgruuf himself made an appearance. 

Eorlund Gray-Mane, the Skyforge blacksmith, stepped forward. He looked older than his already long years. Eorlund had known Kodlak a long time, and one of the most painful things he had to go through was to prepare the funeral pyre for the man in the massive forge. He lost his son to the war and now a friend. Choking back the emotions, he spoke. “Who would like to begin?”

“I will do it,” announced Aela as she waddled forward, carrying a torch, and lit the wood and kindling beneath Kodlak. “Before the ancient flame... We grieve."

“We grieve,” chanted the people in attendance.

Eorlund continued next, "At this loss... We weep."

“We weep,” said all.

"For the fallen... We shout," Vilkas said, choking in controlled emotions.

“We shout,” could be heard by all.

"And for ourselves... We take our leave," said Skjor, the new Harbinger. It would have been Farkas to say the words, but he was not able to attend.

“We take our leave,” continued the chant.

“His spirit has departed,” Aela finished. 

As the crowd dispersed, returning to their busy lives, the remaining Companions stayed, struggling to hold back the emotions, until Kodlak was no more.

_His spirit sent to the Huntings Grounds of Hircine_ , Vilkas thought bitterly, jaw clenched, trying to keep from weeping in front of the others.

Vilkas approached Eorlund and handed him a box full of metal fragments. “Please, can this be reforged? It’s the pieces of Wuuthrad. We need it to get into Ysgramor’s tomb for the final ceremony to set Kodlak’s soul free from Hircine.

“Aye, it will be done.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month after Kodlak's funeral, the Companions sat on benches set in neat rows. The temple was full of fragrant flowers of assorted colors that permeated the air. There were so many candles in various stages of melting, the room glowed and cast ethereal shadowed movements on the old stone walls. 

Aela was beautiful with her red hair in braids and wound atop her head, and blue mountain flowers placed in purposeful locations throughout her hair. Her wedding dress had to be custom made to make room for the growing child in her stomach.

Next to her was Skjor, smiling ear to ear, never dreaming this day would come. Never believing he would be a man to marry, let alone have someone as fierce and beautiful as Aela to be his wife. He had to admit; he was surprised she accepted his proposal. Perhaps it was his near-death that convinced her. It was his near-death that finally gave him the courage to ask. He had to admit; she had changed since they found out they were having a baby. Aela was more tender and loving, but not losing the strength that drove her.

Aela stood nervously next to Skjor. She wasn’t in regret of her decision to marry Skjor or afraid; she just didn’t like to be the center of attention unless it was in a heated battle, then she loved to stand out like a true warrior. The two held hands, and the Priestess began the ceremony.

“Do you, Skjor, agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?” the Priestess of Mara asked.

“I do. Now and forever.”

“Do you, Aela, agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?”

Everyone in the room must have held their collective breaths in anticipation of her answer because when she uttered, ‘I do. Now and forever,’ the exhale was audible throughout the temple, leaving many to chuckle quietly.

Loud cheers resonated through the temple, and congratulations to the new couple on their marriage. More importantly, it was the celebration at Jorrvaskr, and the Companions knew how to have a party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aela had fallen asleep in the bed next to Skjor late one night. It felt like her heart was on fire after she had that bowl of stew so late at night, but that baby seemed to be perpetually hungry. They had only been married for a few weeks, and she was ready to have their baby. She couldn’t sleep at night, tossing and turning, constantly uncomfortable. No sleeping position would help. The healer said it would be any day now, but nothing had changed. She was only a few days late, but the healer wasn’t worried.

Aela finally crawled in bed, ungraciously belched her late meal, and snuggled next to Skjor, who always slept so soundly. The cramping in her stomach didn’t help either, but she tried to ignore it as she finally started to doze.

She didn’t know how long she was asleep when she woke up with a start, not sure what woke her up before realizing the bed was wet, and her cramping had gotten worse. She didn’t know how long ago her water broke, knowing what the wetness was, but she knew she would be in a world of hurt soon.

“Skjor…”

“Hmmm…” he mumbled, still asleep.

“Skjor! Wake up!”

“Wha...what’s wrong?”

“The baby is coming.”

All sleepiness was forgotten as Skjor got up, and ran off in search of Danica at the temple to help Aela give birth. Aela would have laughed at his sudden speed since he wasn’t one to wake up quickly, but the pain in her stomach pushed aside all humor.

A couple of hours later, her screams could be heard throughout Jorrvaskr.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henrik and Farkas made it back to Whiterun that afternoon exhausted and in dire need of baths and bed. They were ready to return to Jorrvaskr and made their way back home as quickly as possible. Their dreams of rest and relaxation disintegrated as they entered Jorrvaskr to Aela’s screams, which could be heard all the way upstairs in the dining hall.

They rushed downstairs, swords drawn, to the living quarters thinking Jorrvaskr was being attacked again. Instead, they came down to a couple of young women carrying sheets, water, tossing bloody rags in a basket to be washed later. Farkas grabbed one of the girls rushing back to Aela’s room.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, worried.

“A baby is comin’,” she said and ran off, but ran back. 

Farkas and Henrik ran off in search of Skjor or Vilkas. Neither could find Skjor, assuming he was with Aela but found Vilkas in his room moodily trying to read a book to block out the noise to his sensitive ears.

Vilkas looked up in surprise to see his brother and Henrik back, looking better than he could have hoped. He had worried for them, but Farkas made sure to send periodic letters, so he knew they were alive and well. 

Vilkas stood and embraced his brother, happy he made it back. Then he hugged Henrik, glad to see he was mentally better.

“How exciting! A baby Companion!” exclaimed Henrik, out of the blue as the twins looked at him strangely, both of them sharing a similar cocked eyebrow. 

“What?” the twins asked in unison, shocked.

“Seriously, babies excite you?” Vilkas asked.

“Uhm, yes, they don’t excite you?”

“I don’t know; I don’t really think about babies at all. Though now I think with all the screaming of having one, I don’t like them so much.”

“Well, I remember my little sister when she was born. She was the sweetest thing...she still is. I love her. Despite our age difference, we are very close.”

Vilkas just shrugged, “Well, now that you are back, I suggest we go to get some drinks at the Bannered Mare then. No sleepin’ around here tonight.”

“How’s Skjor holding up with all this? Is he in there with her?” Farkas asked.

“Aye, he wanted to be there for their child’s birth. I gotta admit, I never thought he would be the type to be in a birthin’ room. Anyway, I’m just glad I’m a man...sounds painful,” Vilkas said as he walked off to the Bannered Mare.

“Apparently, it is one of the most painful things a woman can go through,” Henrik informed the brothers, following close behind.

“Henrik, you seem to know way too much about these things,” Farkas teased.

“Well, as I said, I remember my sister being born. I wasn’t in the room, but I remember my mother’s screams. I don’t know; maybe we should stick around and see if she needs help.”

“We aren’t even allowed in there,” Farkas insisted.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help.”

“We can help by leaving her and Skjor alone,” Vilkas explained. “Come on, we need to drink and eat. It isn’t gonna happen here.”

As soon as the three walked in the Bannered Mare, the place was packed with the people of Whiterun. The rest of the Companions had the same idea as they crammed next to each other at a small table. They shoved another table together, and all sat down, ordering drinks and food.

“I don’t understand how Aela let this happen,” Njada complained, perpetually irritable, arms crossed, but even more so now that she couldn’t even sit at home. “She’s the toughest one out of us, and here she is going to be a mother?”

“What’s wrong with her being a mother, exactly?” asked Henrik

Njada scowled at the man looking at him as if he were clueless. “I’m sorry, was I talkin’ to you?”

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to talk,” he retorted.

Instead of getting angry, she barked out a laugh and clapped Henrik on the back. “And here I thought I hated you.”

“Gee, I’m honored…”

“Well, I think it’s exciting! I can’t wait to have a baby running around the place,” exclaimed Ria.

“Pft, you would. I swear, you couldn’t even pay me to have a baby,” yelled Njada.

“As if anyone would pay you to have a child. If you had one, I would feel sorry for it, and I don’t even like kids,” retorted Torvar, who was already drunk as usual, most likely on his sixth mug of mead.

Athis, the only non-human of the Companions, spoke up finally, watching the group yammer on about babies. He was lucky, as a Dunmer, to be in the Companions, and they all were his family and home, but babies? “We are warriors...The Companions. By Azura, how are we going to handle a baby around the place? Do you know how many weapons we got lyin’ about the place?” His red eyes flashed as he shook his head. “It’s nuts, I tell ya!”

“Urgh, we are gonna have to baby-proof all of Jorrvaskr!” Vilkas griped.

Henrik smiled and shook his head at their misery. “You do realize this baby has been coming for nine months, and NOW you all are complaining?” He then looked at Farkas with a twitch of his head in the direction of the baths and winked.

Farkas gave him a knowing look, coughed, and excused himself as the two men headed down to the cellar for a bath together. At least it was quieter than Jorrvaskr.

“There they go...What, talkin' about babies too much for you wimps?!” Njada yelled out.

Henrik and Farkas were nearly too big to fit in the washbasin, but they managed, water spilling over the sides. They had to face each other; feet stretched out either side of their bodies. It was hot as the men languidly soaked in the lavender-infused water. 

Henrik took some soap as he washed Farkas’ feet, massaging through the tired tendons.

“Ah, that feels nice. You can rub my feet anytime,” Farkas said, eyes closed and leaned back his head, a smile on his face.

Henrik wanted to ask a question but wasn’t sure if it was the right time or not. They were together, but it wasn’t as if they were married or anything. No matter Farkas’ answer, he would never leave him, especially after everything they had been through together, so he decided to ask anyway. His answer wouldn’t affect anything, but it would be good to know beforehand, so he could prepare accordingly.

“Fark?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think you would ever want kids?”

Farkas opened sleepy eyes at Henrik’s odd question, though he shouldn’t be surprised after the way Henrik talked about babies tonight. “I don’t know...I haven’t given it much thought. Then again, I haven’t even thought about marriage either.” Henrik was about to open his mouth to say something, but Farkas beat him to it. “Actually, I take that back. I have thought about marriage, but...only recently.” He eyed Henrik with half-closed eyes to see how he would take that little tidbit.

“Really? So...have you been thinking about... ‘us’ married?”

“I have quite a bit recently.”

“Ready to be stuck with a man the rest of your life, and a damaged one at that?” Henrik had to ask because he knew Farkas had been with women before as well.

“No, not any man. Just you, and yes, I am. And you are not damaged, Hen. You’ve just been through a lot. We all have.”

Henrik found himself strangely blushing and looked at Farkas shyly, now working on the other foot. “Are you asking then?”

“Maybe I am.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good. Then let’s get married,” Farkas smirked, sitting up as water splashed everywhere to kiss his soon to be husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Cleansing of the soul.


	19. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby blankets, cures, and weddings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

There was a soft knock on their bedroom door, and Henrik got up to answer it, letting Farkas sleep. It was still early morning, and he grumbled about needing more sleep as he yawned and opened the door. A package was thrust into his bare chest as he grabbed it.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice slurred from being half asleep, eyes still trying to focus.

“How in Oblivion should I know? It came for you, and now you have it. It’s not like I’m your personal courier or anything,” Njada complained and stormed off.

Henrik closed the door and looked at the package seeing it was from his mother. Opening it, he pulled out a knitted baby blanket, gray with a hood that had little wolf ears. _She did it! Aela is going to love it_ , he thought, suddenly awake in his excitement.

Farkas rubbed his eyes and growled at being woken up so early. “What’s with all the noise? Come back to bed. I want my warmth back.”

“Too late...I’m awake now.”

Farkas groaned, looking at Henrik, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and saw he was holding up a baby blanket. “You tryin’ to tell me, somethin’?”

Henrik snorted a laugh. “No, this is for Aela and the baby. I asked my mom to make something for the child, and it just arrived.”

“You and babies…I’m goin’ back to sleep,” he grumbled.

“Babies make this harsh world worth it,” Henrik said and left the room to find Aela.

Aela was already awake, breastfeeding the infant as she ate her own breakfast at the table downstairs. She looked exhausted, as did all the Companions lately with the constant wailing at night. Almost everyone was irritable.

Everyone in Jorrvaskr was trying to adapt to the change. It was a slow process, but the entire building was being picked up, weapons stored appropriately, and out of the way, hoping to create an environment safe from little fingers.

“Where is my damned dagger!” Volk could hear Njada yelling in the background. “Is this a daycare or a Warrior’s Guild!”

Aela watched Henrik sit down next to her. “You know, I would have thought the same as Njada until now. Little Erald here has changed everything, and I don’t mind that at all,” she said as she looked lovingly at her infant.

“I have a gift for you. I asked my mother to make it,” Volk said as he held up the baby blanket showing the hood attached with wolf ears.

Aela looked at Henrik strangely, her eyes watered a bit. “I don’t understand you. I...I wasn’t the nicest to you, and I’ve been horrible to Farkas. I really don’t deserve gifts.”

“Well, you...can come off harsh, but there is a light in you now with this baby. Besides, I love babies, and this is a gift for him.”

“Thank you.” Aela lifted the baby to wrap him in the new blanket and burp him. The little ears on his head made her chuckle. “It’s adorable. Tell your mother I appreciate it.”

“May I? I can do it while you finish eating.”

Aela scoffed but didn’t mean to. “What do you know about babies?”

“I am a lot older than my sister. I remember doing a lot of things with her when she was a baby. I helped to feed her, bathe her, I would hold her, read to her. It helped to make us very close.”

Aela nodded and gently handed Erald over to Henrik, who delicately placed the infant upright and patted his back. The infant belched, and suddenly Volk felt something warm and wet drip down his back and shoulder. “I guess I should have put a cloth on my shoulder.”

She laughed at his grimace. “Are you and Farkas going to have kids after you’re married?”

“I hope so.”

Farkas smiled and watched Henrik from a distance, gently bouncing the baby in his arms to get it back to sleep. It was quite the sight to see such a giant warrior holding something so small and fragile, looking like a natural at it.

“You done cuddlin’ babies, or can we now get some breakfast and train?” Farkas asked, looking at his back in disgust, then gave him a kiss. “You may want to get that cleaned first.”

Henrik looked up at his fiance with a smirk. “Yeah, I’m done. Give me a minute,” he said as he handed Erald back to Aela and left to get cleaned up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henrik looked out over in the distance, Wuuthrad strapped heavily to his back. The snowstorm made it difficult to see, but he could just make out the ruins on the island past the College of Winterhold. Vilkas and Farkas were already ahead of him walking down the trail that could barely be seen through the falling snow, each of them carrying a couple of hag heads in leather sacks.

He pulled the hood of his cloak tighter around his face as he followed down to the icy beach and across by a rowboat to Ysgramor’s tomb. Volk had no idea why the tomb was so remote and in such forsaken lands.

He was excited about the cure, thinking there was no chance before while in Solitude. It was thanks to Aela, who helped to keep the heads frozen. Henrik was surprised she did that knowing how much she loved her beast side. Now he and the twins could finally be rid of their beasts.

Henrik slipped on the ice, and Farkas was there to catch him to keep him from falling. Grabbing his hand, they held onto each other until they made it to the bottom of the trail. 

The three finally made it to the tomb, and it took both of the twins to open the heavy iron doors before them. The three walked into thick cobwebs and the smell of old bones and must. Down the ancient stone steps stood before them was a giant statue of Ysgramor himself. He looked like a grand bearded Nord in ancient heavy armor, his hands posed empty of his great-axe. 

"This is the resting place of Ysgramor. And his most trusted generals. We should be cautious," Vilkas informed them as they all looked around the small room and locked iron doors before them.

“Why do we need to be cautious?” Henrik asked.

"The original Companions, their finest warriors, rest here with Ysgramor. You'll have to prove yourself to them. It's not that you're intruding. I'd wager they've actually expected us. They just want to be sure that you're worthy. Be ready for an honorable battle."

“So, how do we get inside?”

“Just put Wuuthrad in Ysgramor’s hands, and it should open the way,” Vilkas instructed.

Henrik placed Wuuthrad in the statue’s hands, and sure enough, the doors opened before them, leading the way towards their eventual cure from lycanthropy. “Are you all ready for this? Ready to be cured?”

“I’m fine either way. You and Vilkas want to be cured, it’s fine by me.”

“Yes, I’m more than ready to rid myself of this curse,” Vilkas said.

Swords drawn, they entered, and no sooner they walked through the door, they were faced with two ghostly Companions ready for battle. One would assume ghosts would be easy to fight, but they were chosen to defend the tomb and were quite skilled. It was strange to clash swords with them, feeling the reverberations through the metal against something one could barely see.

Most of the tomb was crawling with ancient Companions ready to test the mettle of all those that dared enter the tomb of Ysgramor. The trio was getting tired and must have fought at least two dozen of these ancient beings. They knew they were nearing the end towards an antechamber then onwards to the main burial chamber. Straight ahead was a sarcophagus where Ysgramor was said to be resting protected by an iron gate. 

What had their mouths agape, wasn’t the fact they were in the actual resting place of Ysgramor, but standing before them warming his hands on a blue flame in the middle of the room was Kodlak. Not the Kodlak as he was before, flesh and bone, but ghostly like those the three fought earlier. 

“Kodlak?” whispered Farkas, eyes dewy from emotion. He never got to say his goodbyes, and there the man was before him.

“Farkas, my boy!” Kodlak greeted.

“I...I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you and...missed your funeral,” he sputtered out, trying to reign in his emotions.

“No need for apologies, son. I know you cared about me. And look here, you three are to follow my lead and cure yourselves. I’m proud of you all.”

“Why are you here?” Vilkas asked, unsure of what he was really seeing was Kodlak.

“My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here trying to evade Hircine."

“Can you still be cured?” Henrik asked. “We have an extra head.”

“Do you now? Then let us see. Throw one of them into the fire. It will release their magic for me, I hope."

Vilkas pulled out a rotting hag head, the smell was repulsive to their sensitive noses, and he threw it into the blue flames. Kodlak’s body suddenly started to squirm, convulse and wreath as if in pain when suddenly the shape of a massive wolf burst forth from his body. “Kill it,” he gasped out.

The three Companions drew their swords and quickly cut down the ethereal wolf, killing it.

"And so slain the beast inside of me. Thank you for this gift. The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps someday, you'll join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr bring the Companions to further glory."

With that, Kodlak disappeared, hopefully to Sovngarde. 

Henrik held Farkas, who started silently weeping, but glad he got to see Kodlak once more. He stood taller, wiped his face, and asked who was to be next.

“I will go,” said Vilkas.

Once Vilkas' wolf was destroyed, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I...it’s like waking up out of a dream. I can breathe more deeply now. I...I can’t smell your heart beating the way I used to. But my mind is...clear. My soul is clean now.”

Farkas was eager to go next after hearing how well his brother handled it. Once his wolf was killed, he had a big grin, grabbed Henrik’s face, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. “It’s like relaxing into a warm mug of spiced mead…”

“You're not talking about bathing in the stuff now, are you?” Henrik teased.

“No...but, I’m losin’ aches I didn’t know I had. This is how a warrior should feel. Alive and aware. Not clouded with thoughts of the hunt.”

“We might have to test out that new warrior feeling tonight…” Henrik smirked.

“Urgh, you two...keep it to yourselves!” Vilkas griped.

“Your turn, Henrik.”

Henrik tossed the head into the blue flames and could feel a power pulling and tugging sensation inside his very soul. He could hear his wolf howling in anger at being separated, not wanting to die. It was hard to resist, but there was no choice. The release of the magic forced the wolf out of him as the twins quickly killed it.

“Oh, that is so much better! I never got used to that thing snapping and snarling in my damned head. Good riddance! I can’t wait to tell my mother and father.”

After looking around the ruins for a little longer and saying a little prayer to Ysgramor, they headed out back to Winterhold to stay the night.

“I remember reading about Winterhold and how it used to be a great town until most of it collapsed into the Sea of Ghosts around eighty years ago,” Henrik said.

“Yep, some blame the College to have been involved, but they deny it all saying it was caused by the earthquake in Vivec, but that doesn’t make sense either as that happened nearly 200 years ago. No one really knows what happened,” Vilkas lectured.

When they entered the Frozen Hearth, they rented two rooms, food, and mead. It was late, so they didn’t stay up drinking more and headed to bed after their late meal.

“Shor’s beard, this place is cold. No wonder they call it the Frozen Hearth. They need to find a way to warm up their rooms,” Henrik complained as they were removing their armor.

Farkas laughed at him, “You’re a Nord!”

“Yes, so are you! What’s your point? Am I not allowed to be cold?”

Farkas wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for an embrace, “better?”

Henrik pressed his lips to his fiance. “Mmhmm…” The kiss was soft and tender as their tongues sought each other out. 

“Nervous?” Henrik asked when they pulled away.

“About what...Oh, when we get back?” Farkas shrugged. “I guess a little bit. I mean, it’s a big step, but I’m certain I want to be with you for the rest of my life and that I love you. Are you?”

“Like you...a little bit.” 

Henrik couldn’t help but think about Adrian, his first love, and how they talked about marriage and having a family. He figured he would probably always think about Adrian. It would be hard to push him out completely, not that he wanted to. But those thoughts were not wanted at the moment; he wanted to focus solely on Farkas. 

Removing all their clothes as they always did, they curled up in bed as Henrik snugged in for warmth, face nuzzled into Farkas’ neck. “You know, I do kind of miss smelling you already. I mean, I still can, but it’s not quite the same.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, but I like being more clear-headed.”

“Me too…” he said as he ran a hand down his naval and in between his legs feeling Farkas instantly harden.

He rolled over facing Henrik so he could touch him as well, though he was already hard. Lips were pressed together, tongues tangling in mouths, as their strokes to each other heated up. It didn’t take long for both to explode, one after the other. 

They cleaned each other and curled back into bed. Farkas rested his head on Henrik’s shoulder, swirling a finger through his dark chest hair. He draped a leg over Henrik’s and held him. “I love you, Hen.”

“I love you, Fark. More than anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henrik and Farkas stood before the Priestess of Mara a month after the baby arrived. They wanted to make sure Aela and Skjor could attend the ceremony with the baby. Both men looked dashing in their embroidered tunics Henrik’s mother made just for the occasion. Henrik’s was blue while Farkas wore white, which was a nice contrast against his darker skin.

After they said their ‘I do’s,’ the celebration commenced at Jorrvaskr. It wasn’t that long ago another wedding took place. Henrik and Farkas laughed when they heard Njada gripe about everyone getting married and having kids, turning Jorrvaskr into a house of romance instead of battle-hardened warriors. Though she didn’t complain about the excellent food and drink.

Henrik’s parents and little sister made the trip from Solitude to attend the wedding and celebrate with their son. They were pleased their son was happy and loved someone, but they couldn’t help but have some pangs that there would be no heirs or grandbabies.

“You’re getting too big to carry, Svari! What are you, 20 Winters now?” Henrik teased as he held his little sister, leaving her in giggles and giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“I miss you, Henry,” she said, calling him by the name she had given him since his sister was little as she always missed the ‘k’ in his name. 

“I miss you too, but I promise to come to visit soon, OK?”

“I wish you had come to Solitude for the wedding and celebration. We would have thrown you something spectacular,” Henrik's mother said as his family was leaving.

“Yes, that is exactly _why_ I didn’t want it in Solitude,” he teased, knowing how extravagant his mother’s parties were.

“I have a gift for you and Father. It’s not anything you can hold or touch.” Henrik put down Svari and sent her off so she couldn’t hear. “Farkas and I are cured. I thought you might like to know that.”

“You mean you aren’t...werewolves,” she whispered the last word as if no one knew the truth.

“Nope, it’s all gone.”

His parents let out an audible sigh of relief that it was one less thing to worry about in regards to their son. His mother held him tightly and tried not to weep at the good news. 

After Henrik’s family said their goodbyes, he and Farkas snuck downstairs to their room for some privacy.

“This is for you...a wedding gift,” Farkas said, handing him a small box. 

Henrik opened his gift to find an amulet with a thick chain and a Nordic design. “This is wonderful, thank you, Fark.”

“It’s enchanted with a protection spell from magic. I just thought it would be useful out there when you’re on your own, and it’s helpful for us warriors.”

“I love it!” he said, putting it on. “Here, I have something for you too,” Henrik said, also handing Farkas a small box.

Inside the box was a key. “It’s a key. This isn’t one of those ‘you’re the key to my heart’ things, is it,” Farkas laughed, knowing Henrik wasn’t that clichéd and sentimental.

“Uhm, no,” he laughed. “It’s a key to a house...our house.”

“You bought a house? How did you afford that?”

“I can’t afford that, not what I earn with the Companions. It’s a gift from mother and father, but I did chip in. Couldn’t have them paying for everything.”

“Our own place? Where are we going to live?”

“Right here in Whiterun. A little house came up for sale recently, and we bought it. It’s not big or anything, but it should fit both of us lumbering mammoths.”

“You mean we will have privacy and not be crammed in my room anymore?” Farkas asked, a smile on his face.

“Well, we will be crammed in our bedroom at the house, but yes, we will have the place all to ourselves. It’s ready, so we can move in at any time.”

Farkas found himself suddenly overwhelmed with emotion towards his new husband. “I don’t know what to say, Hen...it’s a lot. I…”

“Shhh, I love you, and while I enjoy being here with the Companions, I want to make a life for us...you and me.”

“My gift is so menial in comparison…”

“Fark, this is mostly a gift from my parents. And your gift isn’t menial at all. It came from your heart, and you want to protect me, as always. It’s very you, and it’s perfect for me. I love it.”

“You really like it?”

“Yes. It is special to me.”

They wrapped arms around each other’s waists and bumped foreheads. “Just be prepared for no sleep tonight,” Farkas informed him.

“Promises promises...you’re like a bear in hibernation that snores.”

“I’ll show you a bear…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Even those who believe will never be loved can still find it.


	20. The Unwanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we reach the end of Henrik and Farkas' story. They are now complete, but it won't be the end of these two, oh no. I have more planned for my Dynamic Duo.

“Farkas! Henrik! I need to speak with you both,” yelled Skjor when he saw the two emerge from their room to eat some lunch after packing all morning. 

“What’s up, Harbinger,” Farkas said.

“By the Nine, I will never get used to that...just...stick with Skjor, please. Anyway, I know you two are busy packing and getting ready to move, but it’s going to have to wait…”

“Got a job for us, then?” Henrik asked.

“More than that. There have been two Silver Hand locations that have cropped up in Eastmarch and the Rift. After we have been slowly pushing them out, they too are moving further out of our reach, but that’s not going to stop us. We need to put an end to them, and I need you two to do it. Aela can’t go out as much anymore, as you know, and Vilkas is already out on another job.”

“Glad to stop Silver Hand as much as we can. Whereabouts in Eastmarch and the Rift?” Farkas asked.

“About a few miles into Eastmarch from Whiterun, there is a cave called Lost Knife Hideout. We have received reports of some werewolf slaughter outside the entrance. Same thing in the Rift. There’s a cave near there called Broken Helm Hollow East past Riften. You two think you can handle it?”

“You tryin’ to insult us?” Farkas asked, feigning shock that anyone would accuse them of anything less.

“Never,” Skjor said blandly. “Just get it done. We cannot let them get as organized as the last time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early morning when they awoke in camp, the fire had long gone out, and the morning was cold. They had made Eastmarch late that night and made camp by the rushing river, but it was time to move on towards the Lost Knife Cave, no time to waste.

“Judging by my map, it looks like it’s going to take us until the afternoon to reach it,” Henrik said, eating an apple and looking over his map spread out on the ground. He threw an apple to Farkas as he came out of the tent, fumbling it in his hands before he finally caught it and took a large bite.

“Good, at least we shouldn’t be overly tired when we get there,” Farkas said, sitting next to Henrik and planted kisses along his husband’s neck. “We can spend a few minutes for some morning love, can’t we?”

Henrik laughed and shrugged Farkas’ face from his neck as his breath tickled him. “I guess we could, but you know how tired that makes us. We normally want to stay in bed for hours afterward.”

Farkas sighed dramatically, “I guess you’re right...fine. Let’s go kill some Silver Hand and work off this desire for you.”

“Think of it this way; if anything, it builds up our desire. When we reach Riften, we can rent a room and then have our fun.”

“Ugh! That’s going to be three days from now!”

“You’re such a baby...as much as I want you, I always get nervous making love outdoors, afraid I won’t hear something or someone coming. That’s how distracted you get me.”

“Fine…” Farkas said, pouting as he put on his armor. “Way to kill the mood, Hen.”

Henrik just laughed under his breath at his insatiable husband, but deep down, it was always nice to be so wanted and loved.

It was late afternoon by the time they finally reached Lost Knife Cave. Hiding behind a large boulder, they scoped out the area, which was surrounded by dead wolves and werewolf heads on spikes, favorite decorations of the Silver Hand. The swarm of flies feeding on the carrion was a dark swirling mass.

The two Companions didn’t need to give each other directions on how to approach the cave. Both of them had been on enough missions and understood each other so well, they knew how to work together as they made their way in the cave. 

Taking out the first two sentries as soon as they entered, they worked their way deeper inside. The trail opened up into a massive cavern. Henrik must have had his mouth wide open because he could feel Farkas lift his jaw to close it. 

“This is the biggest cave I have ever seen,” Henrik whispered. 

He grabbed Farkas by the arm to stop him and pointed to his bow on his back then pointed towards two Silver Hand in a makeshift wooden platform in the center of the cave.

Henrik killed the first one, and before the other Silver Hand could react, he killed him as well. Looking around, Henrik could see more platforms high up in the cavern with a couple of Silver Hand doing rotations as he plucked them off as well— _two less to deal with._

It took about an hour to scour the entire cave, killing Silver Hand as they went. The lower into the cave, the more concerned they got about how organized this group was. By the end of it, they reached a large chamber full of caged wild animals from wolves to sabre cats. The stench of death assaulted their noses, and they could hear someone yelling out demanding to be challenged in battle. Apparently, they stumbled into a fight ring of some sort. 

Most of the Silver Hand were distracted, and several were easily plucked off, but eventually, they wizened up and noticed something wrong as they got organized to kill the two intruders. They were no match for the highly trained Companions as their numbers were decimated.

Farkas and Henrik jumped into the middle of the fighting arena. the area was full of dead animals and bodies, where the leader was taunting them. “Come here to challenge me, eh? I’d like to see you try! I’m the best there is!” 

Henrik swung his sword gracefully in two hands eager to be done with the windbag, but Farkas pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him. “Let me deal with this piece of shit,” he smirked.

“By all means,” he bowed to his husband, shoving his sword into the ground, leaning on its hilt as he watched, an amused smirk played on his lips.

Farkas tauntingly swung his great-sword to and fro in graceful arcs as Henrik had taught him. He looked so handsome to Henrik as he watched him swing and cut the sword, daring the leader to come at him. The Silver Hand leader, ever predictable, screamed and came at Farkas, but there were too many emotions and anger coursing through him, as Farkas easily deflected the attack. For fun, he smacked the leader on the ass with the flat of his sword as he followed through, knowing it was going to make the man angrier. The more emotional the opponent, the more mistakes they made. Farkas could hear Henrik chuckle in the background. 

It worked, as the leader yelled again, sword raised, ready to cut Farkas down. Blade met blade as it was blocked, and Farkas shoved the man back. He did a downwards cut towards the Silver Hand and sliced his chest, cutting through leather, blood seeping out, but it wasn’t a fatal blow. 

Finally, getting bored of toying with the Silver Hand, Farkas swung his sword as the man lunged at him, slicing through the neck. The leader fell to his knees, eyes still in shock as if he couldn’t believe he had lost, though he was dead and crumpled to the ground.

“Nicely done! What a windbag. I found the biggest braggarts are the least experienced,” Henrik said.

It was evening by the time they made it out of the cave system and prepared a camp close by near the river to clean up. Farkas set up camp while Henrik went hunting for their dinner. 

“Well, that did nothing to help me wanting you right about now,” Farkas complained, pouting after they ate, hoping Henrik would give in.

“You know why I don’t like to do these things outside, Fark.”

But Farkas wasn’t about to give up as he sat next to his husband kissing him and running a gentle hand down in between his legs where he could feel Henrik harden. He smiled in Henrik’s mouth at his reaction.

“Fine, but no sex…,” Henrik gave in as he dragged Farkas into the tent who was grinning ear to ear, pleased to get his way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know I’ve never been to Riften. The place stinks something awful, but I can’t help but love the Rift and town. There is something cozy about it all,” Henrik said.

“Yeah, good thing we aren’t beasts anymore, or else the stench would make me want to vomit.”

“You have such a way with words, love,” Henrik teased.

It was early afternoon, and the two men rented a room at the Bee and Barb, then explored the town, hand in hand. Henrik bought a sweet roll from a vendor, ignoring the red-headed vendor selling Falmer blood. He knew it was a sham, not that Farkas and he needed any elixir to get them sexually motivated.

They were sitting on the bench, enjoying the warm day when Henrik looked over at a building that had “Honorhall Orphanage” on the sign. He suddenly stood up and walked over to the building standing in front of the door, hand poised to open it, debating on going inside. 

Henrik wanted children, and there must be kids in there who needed a happy home, but he resisted the urge. They had a mission to do— _maybe when we are done_. 

Farkas watched Henrik standing in front of the orphanage, knowing what was probably on his husband’s mind. He knew how much he loved kids, but it wasn’t the time. He was about to go get him before he saw Henrik turn away and come back with a look of slight disappointment.

Farkas grabbed his husband’s hand tenderly and touched it to his lips. “Ready to go?”

“Yep…”

The cave wasn’t very far, just a few short miles from Riften. Broken Helm Hollow must have held a newly formed Silver Hand group as there were only about five of them to deal with. Two sentries were outside guarding the place, and inside the rest were sleeping. Farkas and Henrik couldn’t bring themselves to kill them while they slept, something just felt dishonorable about it, though they did not deserve their mercy. The leader proved to be more formidable, though they usually were.

The two men sat at a table at the Bee and Barb that night, making it back just in time for dinner, relieved the last group was simple to dispatch.

“Thank the Gods that last one was easy. The Silver Hand are trying to get organized, but they still seem not quite getting there, after we wiped out their headquarters,” Henrik said while sipping his mead.

Farkas chugged down the last of his mead and waved the Argonian male over to order another. “There will always be more. Skyrim never seems to run out of these assholes. There will always be those who take advantage of the weak. That’s why we are here doing what we do.”

Henrik was quiet for a while listening to Farkas go on about all the bandit problems Skyrim has, but he was distracted, sipping his mead. 

Farkas looked at his husband, wondering why the sudden silence. Usually, they both talked quite a bit, especially after coming off of a job. “What’s goin’ on, love. You seem lost in thought.”

“It’s nothing really. I just was thinking about all these kids around here. Did you see them running around Riften earlier today? They look ragged and horrible. It was why I went over to the orphanage.” Henrik shrugged, “I guess I’ve been thinking about a family a lot lately, especially with that little one at Jorrvaskr.”

“I figured it might be somethin’ like that. I get it, but there will be time for that. Let us earn some more money and stuff...get settled in the new house, and then we can talk about it.”

“We haven’t really talked about what you want. I guess you aren’t really into the idea, huh?”

Farkas took a sip of his mead to think about things. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it all until you. I know you like them, but honestly, it kinda scares me. I don’t know anything about bein’ a father. I barely had one myself. Well, Vilkas said Jergen wasn’t our father, but we will never know since he’s dead.”

“I think you would be a good father, Farkas. You are tender, loving, loyal, protective, kind, smart...a child couldn’t ask for better.”

“You forgot handsome, muscular, powerful…”

Henrik chuckled, “Sorry, I thought that was obvious.” His smile died away. “Anyway, yeah, we can talk about it later.”

As soon as they walked into their room, Farkas wasted no time and pressed Henrik up against the wall. Standing close to him, he moved his mouth nearHenrik’s throat, quickly getting hard and ground into his husband’s thigh. “I do believe you promised me a night of fun,” he informed in a low growl. “I am beginning to think you forgot.”

Henrik could feel the growling vibrations in his chest, heating him. “Impossible with you for a husband,” Henrik whispered, breathing heavily. Farkas had a way of touching just, so that had him almost melting. 

Farkas grabbed his hands and lifted them against the hard, wood of the wall, a light breath in his ear. Henrik’s breath hitched when a thigh ground into Henrik’s hardness. He felt heat trail down between his legs as his heart rate sped up. His groans encouraged his lover to plant gentle kisses on his neck and throat. 

Face to face, Farkas hovered over his husband's lips, not quite touching, “I want you. I want to be in you.”

“You have me…” Henrik groaned, nearly melting at Farkas’ words. 

Tunics were removed as they pressed their warm bodies together, kissing, tongues reaching, hands exploring. Without stopping their kisses, they started to untie their breaches almost in desperation. Unable to remove them fast enough, they detached from each other long enough to take off boots, socks, breeches, and smalls, and flung to all corners of the room.

Lunging at each other hurriedly, bodies pressed tight, feeling each other’s heat and hardness was enough to lose control. Surprising Henrik, his husband dropped to his knees and took his hardness in his mouth. He tangled fingers in Farkas’ dark hair, the tongue and heat of his breath had him almost panting, a groan escaped his lips. Farkas was good with his mouth, and it wasn’t taking much to bring Henrik over the edge, hissing as the tongue rolled over the sensitive tip. He shoved the man off of him then looked at each other, hunger in their eyes.

Kissing once more, Farkas led Henrik to the bed as they settled down on the rough wool of the blanket. Not wasting time, Farkas grabbed the jar and dug a finger in the oily substance, gliding it around Henrik’s tight entrance. He was rewarded with a groan and spread of the legs as if beckoning for more. 

Henrik slowly felt himself filled with his friend, his lover, his husband. Thoughts of how lucky he was to find him diminished as he pressed further in, and those thoughts gave way to desire, want, need. He closed his eyes to pay attention to the man inside of him, that ever-familiar heat and sensation when he hit that spot and moaned. 

Farkas loved watching him when they made love. He loved watching his blue eyes closed, a slight smile playing on the lips as teeth protruded to bite the bottom lip, but the mouth opened breathlessly when he hit just the right spot. He jolted with heat and love when his husband opened his eyes to find him being watched and was graced with his gorgeous smile.

Henrik was getting close as he grabbed himself, rolled a thumb along his tip, then moved his hand gently, slowly gathering speed the closer he got. He could tell Farkas was getting closer too by his grunts and further swelling of his hardness. His body stilled as he was hit with his orgasm, holding his breath but only for a moment before the release, feeling him pulse in his hand as he exploded. 

Farkas was never far behind whenever his lover released. It was a turn on to watch, and it built him up so far there was no turning back. He exploded inside him, and when he could do no more, he fell gently on top of Henrik as his husband ran gentle fingers along his back. 

“You’re doing that to me next…” Farkas said breathlessly.

Henrik barked a laugh, “Tonight?! I don’t know if I can move anymore.”

“Mmmm, maybe not tonight, but definitely in the morning.”

“You and morning sex,” Henrik chuckled.

“Morning sex is the best. We are all sleepy and lazy. Sex is gentle and soft, but the orgasm is even better.”

“When you put it that way...I’m sold.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

After breakfast, they grabbed their gear to head out to the market and find a gift for Henrik’s sister since her Name Day was coming up. He was looking through some dolls to see if there was one she would like but wondered if she even liked dolls anymore since she was turning twelve soon. Changing his mind, he looked for something else when he came across a lovely journal with a beautiful pattern on the leather cover. He felt a pang, thinking about Adrian. Henrik frequently bought Adrian journals for him to write in. Pushing aside the memories, he decided to purchase it for his sister.

Before he could pay, he felt a slight tug in his cloak. If he weren’t so well-trained to be hyper-aware, he would have missed the deft hands seeking out treasures to grab. Henrik quickly grabbed the intruding hand tightly by the wrist and turned around to find an orc girl much younger than his own sister, probably no more than seven or eight. Her green skin was smudged with grime, having not bathed in a while. Her long black hair in knots and her clothes were torn and ragged, yet her protruding tusks were still white from youth and gave her an exaggerated underbite.

The orc girl had surprise and fear in her eyes at being caught. She paused only long enough to figure a way out of her situation as she twisted her wrists out of the man’s grasp and ran. 

Henrik watched the girl run, realizing while he grabbed her one hand to keep her from stealing his coin, she had slipped another hand in his cloak and took it. He could see his coin purse in her hands as she ran through the streets— _Clever girl_.

“Hey, where are you goin’? Why are you running?”

“Come on, you oversized mammoth! She stole my coin purse!” Henrik yelled out as he ran chasing after the girl.

“Who you callin’ a mammoth, you scrawny chicken!” Farkas retorted as he followed after Henrik.

“Scrawny?! There she goes!” 

Henrik saw the orc girl dive in some bushes, thinking she was cornered and went in after her before he realized there was a hole in the stone wall only large enough for the girl to fit. “Dammit!”

“Excuse me,” said a delicate female voice. “Excuse me.”

Henrik dusted himself off, cursing as he got up off the ground seeing Farkas talk to a woman who couldn’t have been any older than he was, her long dark hair, draped over her shoulder. She tried to look presentable, but it was clear she struggled with wealth.

“I see you were chasing that orc girl,” she stated. “I am Constance Michel, the Headmistress at Honorhall Orphanage, and she is in my care, so you can stop chasing her. I will get whatever she stole from you. I’m afraid she does this quite a bit.”

“It was my coin purse. I don’t have a lot, and I need it for a gift for my sister.”

Henrik and Farkas followed the woman inside the orphanage, listening to her talk about the poor children. So many had lost parents from the Civil War or some who were never wanted. “These poor darlings have no one else but me. No one seems to want them. I wish they had a better place to be instead of Riften. I don’t have the coin to move us somewhere they will have a better chance at being adopted, or keep them from a life of crime.”

Farkas was going to stop Henrik from going in further, knowing he was probably going to want all the kids, but it was too late as he followed the woman into a large room where all the children slept. He resigned to the fact that if Henrik wanted a child, he probably wouldn’t be able to him at that point and just let Henrik go, and if he wanted to adopt, then so be it. He would put his foot down on all of them, but one was fine, he supposed.

“I get some donations periodically, and sometimes the Jarl sends coin over, but it isn’t exactly a lucrative business. I wish I could give them more,” the young woman explained.

“These poor kids…,” Henrik whispered, looking at all the half-starved kids, clothes torn, too small for their growing bodies. In the far corner on the other side of a bed, he saw the Orc girl trying to make her body as small as possible. 

“Shagar! You need to give back this nice man’s coin purse. You know I frown on stealing.”

Henrik kneeled in front of the girl and was surprised to see she was holding a little boy no older than two, who looked to be a half-breed of Altmer and Nord. He looked scared as he pressed his little body next to the girl. His golden skin was covered in grime, and his usually platinum hair was cut haphazardly to keep the tangles out.

“Who’s your friend there, Shagar?” Henrik asked.

The orc girl looked at him, warily wondering why he wasn’t yelling and angry with her, expecting to get beaten for getting caught stealing. “Cal,” she said.

“That’s an interesting name for an Altmer.”

“It’s Calion, but I call him Cal. My friends call me Shay.”

“Hi, Shay and Cal, I’m Henrik, and that large mammoth over there is my husband, Farkas.”

He could hear chuckles from the children in the room at the mammoth comment and hearing Farkas huff, but the girl didn’t smile, still wary of him.

“Tell you what, Shay. You give me five Septim back so I can buy my sister her Name Day present and you can have the rest to share with your friends. Does that sound reasonable?”

Instead of making her happy, she looked at him in suspicion. “Why?”

“Because you need it more than I do.”

Shay threw the whole bag of coin at him in anger, startling him. “We don’t need your charity! We need…”

“What do you need,” he said calmly and softly, not reacting to her outburst. He could see years of neglect and being unwanted, and unloved took its toll on the young girl. Henrik knew very well that the least likely children to be adopted were the ones before him.

“Nothing...it doesn’t matter.” She tried to stop the tears, but one slipped anyway, wiping it away angrily. She had watched children come and go. The Nord children were always more wanted than the mer or beasts.

Henrik sighed and looked at his husband pleadingly, clearly wanting to adopt the girl. 

“Hen, can we talk for a moment?”

Farkas pulled aside Henrik in Constance’s room for some privacy to talk. “I can see you want to adopt her…”

“No, I want to adopt both of them. The two are clearly attached to each other. If we take the girl, the boy has to come too.”

“Are you sure about this, Henrik? These kids are going to be a challenge...they’ve had a rough life, Hen…”

“So have you and I. They need a loving family,” he interrupted. “Look at them, love. No one is going to adopt a half-breed Altmer and an orc girl. They will be alone and then forced to live on the streets when they get too old.”

Farkas sat down in a chair to mull things over. He wasn’t sure how prepared he was to be a father. 

Henrik squatted down before him, looking up, that pleading still in his eyes. “I know this won’t be easy for either of us, but after seeing them, I can’t leave them behind, Fark.”

Farkas sighed and relented, he just couldn’t say no. He knew if those kids had a chance at a good life, it would be with them. “OK, fine...go tell them.”

Henrik grabbed his husband by the face and kissed him, “thank you, husband.”

“Yeah, just no more calling ‘mammoth.’”

“Promise...mammoth,” he said cheekily.

Henrik tried to be calm, returning to the orc girl and her little Altmer mix pal, but he was too excited, and it showed on his face. He squatted down in front of them once more. “Tell you what, how about I donate this money to Constance to feed the kids while you and little Cal here come home with my husband and me. Would that interest you? We can adopt you if you would be willing to be with us as your parents.”

The little half-elf boy perked up to the words ‘adopt’ and ‘parents.’ He stood on thin wobbly legs, taller than he looked and waddled over to Henrik. “Abobped,” he said, arms outstretched.

Henrik smiled at the boy and held him gently, “Yes, we would like to adopt you.”

The girl still seemed suspicious, but she weighed her options, eyes looking older than her years. The two men seemed nice enough; their eyes were kind.

“You mean it, Mr.? You would be willing to adopt us...together? No one ever wants us.”

“My husband and I want you.” 

Henrik proved it by talking to Constance, who was all too eager to get a couple of her kids into loving homes, though surprised they chose those particular children. No one ever wanted the two. He brought the papers over to show Shay that he was officially adopted her along with Cal. He had not signed anything yet because he wanted her to be willing.

When she looked at the papers, though she couldn’t read, she knew what they represented and couldn’t help but have a small smile on her face.

On their way out, he gave his coin to Constance, keeping a few for himself to buy Svari’s gift and made their way out to the stables. There he took a thin scarf he had and tied it around the little boy against his chest so he could ride on the horse without worry he would fall. Shay rode in front with Farkas, bundled up in his cloak that was larger than she was. 

It didn’t take long for the little boy to fall asleep against the warm Nord and the rocking of the horse as they made their way home to Whiterun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two months later, he received the coin he requested from his parents to purchase the abandoned and run-down house next to Jorrvaskr. He and Farkas set up an orphanage in Whiterun and sent for Constance to run it. There all children of all races would be welcome. It would be a place of learning and training. The children would not just be educated but would know how to survive without turning into criminals in case they were never adopted. There they could choose to join the Companions and honor if they wanted to.

The orphanage and school was a success. The people of Whiterun helped to fix up the place and maintain it while providing for the children. Children of all sorts eventually arrived, from Nords to Khajiits.

Henrik stood holding Cal while Farkas held Shay as they stood in front of the orphanage, admiring their hard work and success. 

While the men still had a job to do with the Companions, they knew their children always had a place to go and be well cared for at Jorrvaskr. Though they missed each other, they tried to do jobs separately, so there was always one parent around to watch over Shay and Cal.

As they stood there, Farkas leaned into his husband and kissed him, then looked at him lovingly, wondering how he got so lucky. “I love you, Hen.”

“I love you too, mammoth,” he said to the giggles of their children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what you all thought <3\. Thank you so much for reading!!


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